Promises Broken
by EvenSong
Summary: Mirian is a princess kidnapped by Thayer, the man who killed her father. Thayer is a mercenary who's running into problems of his own, all thanks to Mirian. Beauty & the Beastesque.
1. Promises

Disclaimer: Welcome to the realm of FanFiction!   
  
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The exhausted man with the equally exhausted horse wandered through the muddy roads of the Renegade Kingdom. He was bloody and bruised, and almost collapsing with the effort it took to keep moving,   
  
"A little farther," he murmured to his horse. He was almost delirious with fever as well. "Soon, soon."   
  
The horse whickered weakly, and nudged her master. He looked in the direction the horse sent him. Through the drizzling rain and mist he saw a small shelter. To one that had been sleeping anywhere, the tiny shack looked like a palace.   
  
"Thank you, Sky," the man mumbled through chattering teeth. He tied the horse under an overhang that was supporting the tiny shack. He dragged her load inside and pillowed his head on them. In a heartbeat, he was in a dreamless sleep.   
  
A few hours later, the traveler was still lying in his own puddle on the center of the floor, asleep. The man who had walked through the door looked at the sleeper with disgust. This had been his home, his haven. Now another man's presence and his horse tainted it.  
  
He walked around the man carefully, doing his best not to disturb him. He rummaged through a bundle that was not being used as a pillow. He found many riches; gems and jewels, and bright gold rings.  
  
"Why, this man is rich enough to be a King!" the shack's owner murmured to himself. The next item he pulled out of the bag accentuated this statement. He pulled out a small ring that bore the seal of Wythin. "A Wyth!" he exclaimed softly. Then he pulled out a crown.   
  
"So he is a king!" the man smiled, he would extract a hefty fee for using his home.   
  
Over the next few days, the man tended the King until he awoke. The first words out of his parched throat came with a wild-eyed look.   
  
"Shari! Selena, Michel," the King coughed, "Mirian." Then he fell back against the floor. His eyes slowly focused, "Who are you?" he rasped. His wide eyes took in the man standing above him, the sword resting against the wall, the black cloak shrouding the chair. His eyes darted back to the sword; it bore the crest of the Kalid-Na'in.   
  
The King closed his eyes and remembered the legends that his tutor had told him. He remembered the tales of the Kalid-Na-in, the most fearsome type of warriors, all of them swords for hire. "Oh, Sky, what have I done?" he thought to himself.   
  
"King of Wythin, why are you in my home, my haven?" The warrior spoke softly, dangerously.   
  
"I am here because I was a weary traveler, lost in his path. My feet led me here, as did my horse." The king struggled sit up, conscious of the warrior watching his every move dispassionately. "I hope that I have not offended you in any way, warrior of the renowned Kalid-Na'in. How can I repay you?"   
  
The warrior smiled hungrily, " You cannot repay me by the riches you carry alone, but by blood as well. I would have your life in payment."   
  
The King blanched and said, voice trembling, "Please, do not take my life from me! I have a wife, and three children waiting for me at home! In addition, I have a country to rule, and my son is not yet old enough to do so in my place. Please, spare my life, ask anything but that, anything." The King paled even more as he realized the words he had just spoken.   
  
The warrior's teeth glinted in the dying sunlight. "What do you hold most dear to your heart, oh King?" "My children, great warrior, my children are what I hold closest and most dear to my heart." The King thought of his children, his two daughters and his young son. He loved them all dearly, and would not willingly part with any of them.   
  
"Tell me about them," said the warrior of the Kalid-Na'in as he seated himself next to the sickly King. "Start with the oldest."   
  
"Why do you want to know?" The King's voice quavered with relief.   
  
"Never mind that, just tell me." The warrior's voice was as hard and as sharp as the sword that he wielded.   
  
"I shall start with the eldest," whispered the King. He continued with a nod from the warrior, "She is called Mirian. She is a quiet child. In the Month of the Harvest, she will be six. She has hair like the night-of-no-moon. Her eyes are as the mist that shrouds the sea in the mornings; grey and opaque, always seeming to hide something. She is solemn and older in mind than in body. Her laugh, oh her laugh is like the sun coming out on a cloudy day, as is her smile. She has the grace of the deer in the fields, and their same fleet-footedness. Mirian is my oldest child.   
  
"Michel is the middle child. He is the Heir to the Throne of Wythin. His temperament is like that of the summer birds- happy and carefree. His fifth name day passed in the Month of the Flowers. His hair is like the flax that our weavers use. His eyes hold the light of a thousand blue skies. He has a quick mind, and learns things easily, which is helpful if he is to be king. He is quick to laugh, and he loves the complexities of the world. He constantly wonders why things happen as they do." The King smiled fondly, " He is never satisfied with a simple answer. He loves his pony and the outdoors. He is Michel, my second child and only son.   
  
"The third child, and the youngest, is Selena." The King paused and smiled, "She is the light of my life. She had just been born before I left two years ago. The first day of the Flower Month is when she came into this world. She will grow into a beautiful woman when she is older. Hair the color of the golden sun crowns her head. Her laughing blue eyes held love for me the first time that I held her. She is a happy child, and in the first days when she was born she would just giggle. She is my third and youngest child, my darling Selena." The King's eyes were suffused with love as he thought of his children, and of Selena in particular.  
  
"May I inquire as to what your wife is like?" The warrior broke the King's reverie with softly spoken words.   
  
"My wife, my beloved, my Queen. Her name is Shari. My people, oh my people love her. She was once one of them, but chance and love brought us together. Her hair is like sunlight dancing down her back. Oh, Shari! Her eyes are like that of Michel, bluer than one thousand skies. She has the finest embroidery in the Three Kingdoms, her stitches neat and small, her pictures coming to life with a magic of their own. She loves our children as I do: more than anything in the world. She is my one true love, my Shari."   
  
The warrior sat in silence beside the King, taking in the King's words. He knew now what the King's payment would have to be.   
  
"You shall leave with your life to go home to see your children and your wife," she King looked up at the warrior's flat voice. "At a time of my choosing, I will exact my payment. Be ready. You have one day to pack up your belongings and leave here. I will direct you to the nearest town."  
  
"What is the payment to be?" The King asked in trepidation.   
  
"Your eldest child, your daughter, Mirian." The warrior stood with catlike ease and walked over to his sword.   
  
"No!" The King was aghast; not one of his children!   
  
"Would you rather it be your life?" Asked the warrior calmly, fingering his naked blade with one calloused finger.   
  
The King sighed, and thought of his dilemma. The warrior observed stoically, his blade hungry for it's next meal.   
  
"No," murmured the King with a sad heart, "It could not be so. You shall have your payment at the time of your choosing." Wearily, he hauled himself to his feet. He swayed, once upright, and brushed a hand across his eyes, wiping away the moisture that gathered there. He picked up one bag at a time, carrying them out to his horse.  
  
The mare whickered at him when she saw him, and he patted her affectionately. Bag by bag, he loaded the mare. He wiped a lock of sweaty, blond hair out of his eyes before he led the mare over to a rock and mounted her.   
  
"Great Warrior of the Kalid-Na'in, will you show me now the way to the nearest town?" The king called out formally, allowing what strength he did have to influence his words.   
  
"I am ready, King of the Wyth." The warrior strode into the afternoon sunlight and whistled piercingly. A great stallion pranced up, his hooves kicking up great clods of earth. "Before you leave my haven and reenter the world, King, I must have your word that you will abide by our bargain."   
  
"What would you swear on, warrior?" Fierce blue eyes met bitter black eyes.   
  
"I would have you swear on your name and mine." The warrior spit on his palm and held it out. "Swear on the name of Thayer the Mercenary of the Kalid-Na'in and the name of King Wraithlin of Wythin."   
  
The King spit on his own palm and held it out. "I do so swear." The two men shook hands; the warrior and the king.   
  
The warrior led the horse of the King into the nearest village, one so small it did not even have a name. The King thanked the warrior in a subdued manner and spurred his horse westward, toward his homeland and his family.   
  
The warrior watched the King canter off to the west. He sat perched on his great stallion until he could no longer see the King. Then, in one fluid motion, he set his horse on a northward course and headed for the capital of Tarran, and his own home.   
  
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A/N: I'm back! After a ...what? couple of hours? (More like a day...heehee) Sorry that I'm not using any of your ideas for a sequel, but give me some time. I'll work on it. Promise. :o)   
  
Okie dokie...this is loosely connected to "Runner of Syrlan". Same continent, a few mentions of Syrlan...but new plots, new characters, new (odd) romance...plus some of our old favorites from before.   
  
Tell me what you think...please!!!   
  
EvenSong 


	2. Worries

Disclaimer: Welcome to the realm of FanFiction!   
  
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The King arrived in Wythin within the week. Within a day after that, he was in the capitol city, Wyth. He arrived home within the hour, and his wife met him at the gates of the palace.   
  
"Oh, my beloved! Where is your guard and the men that went with you?" She cried, as she perceived he came alone.   
  
"They died and honorable death protecting their King. As it were, I was the only on to escape the bloody battle that killed my comrades and friends. The men that set upon us were fierce fighters and killed most of them in short order. The rest stood by me, and fought to their deaths. The bandits escaped with but a few of their lives left. I escaped with the lives of only my good mare and myself. I have made it home after two years of traveling and trading." The King sighed heavily and looked at his wife. "Where are my children?"   
  
"Come, my love. They are eager to see you again." The Queen took her husband's arm and led him inside the great stone palace.   
  
"Papa!"   
  
"Father!"   
  
Two small children rushed into his open arms. He scooped them up and hugged them together. Showering them with kisses he held them tighter and tighter until they started to squirm.   
  
Laughing, he pretended to drop them, and then he set his two older children down on the floor. The lines that had been engraved into his face only moments before lifted as he smiled and held his children.   
  
A nurse walked up, carrying his youngest child, Selena. He took her into his arms and smiled down on her. She opened to big blue eyes and smiled at him, revealing a few pearly teeth. "Papa." She lisped.   
  
The King smiled wider and kissed the golden crown of curls on her head. "Hello, my daughter." For a time, the cares of the King were lifted from his shoulders.   
  
At the great feast held in his honor, he once more told the story of what had happened to him and his fellow travelers. Many cheeks were wet by the time the King was finished with his tale of woe and tragedy.   
  
The King lay awake that night, pondering the strange turn of events that had lead him to promise one of his children to a Kalid-Na'in. He had returned from his journey a changed man.   
  
In his mind, he reviewed all he knew about the Kalid-Na'in. He knew that they were fierce warriors, and they were swords for hire. Only three existed at any given time. There could be less, which was quite common, as he recalled. The Kalid-Na'in did not train to become so, they were chosen. Only those who were chosen could ever find their way to the ancient training grounds. He recalled one last thing up from the dregs of his memory: the Kalid-Na'in were virtually immortal: never aging, never dying, as long as they kept their hearts.   
  
The King could not fathom what this could mean. He drifted off into a fitful sleep. Beside him, his Queen slept soundly all through the night.   
  
In the soft light of the morning sun, the King awoke to the mournful cooing of a mourning dove. It was fitting, he thought, for even the birds mourned his lost companions. He wondered idly to himself why he had not told Shari about his pact with Thayer the warrior.   
  
He reasoned to himself the wisdom of keeping something like that from her, but in the end, he decided not to tell her.   
  
If Shari noticed that he was keeping anything from her, she certainly didn't let on. She was as loving and as caring as she had ever been, holding him at night, and showering him with love in the light.   
  
Even still, the days that passed by them took a toll on the King. Each month had aged him as a year would have prior to his journey. The lines in his face grew deeper, his hair more streaked with silver. His hands became as gnarled as the old oak tree that had grown in the palace gardens for generations. His step lost the joy that had once propelled him forward. His eyes lost their luster and love of life.   
  
The people of Wythin saw this, and they grieved for their King. He had been a wise and fair King, and they were sad to see him failing so. The only time he smiled was when his family was near. He delighted in the antics of his children, as they strove to make him laugh. He smiled tenderly at Shari when she displayed her love for him. He watched his children grow into adolescents with clouded eyes.   
  
The courtiers that surrounded him watched with heavy hearts as the trades of Wythin started to fail. The once prized silks were now only second rate. Wythin became a hindrance to the Alliance of the Three Kingdoms.   
  
The King of Wythin refused to use his eldest daughter as a bargaining chip for an alliance. He began to lose respect in the eyes of the people he ruled. Although he had many offers for Selena's hand in marriage, he refused to wed her as well, until she was old enough.   
  
The other two kingdoms of the Three Kingdoms began to slacken their support of Wythin, leaving it open to attacks from the west and south. Wythin declined slowly over the years.   
  
When all seemed lost, the aged King announced something that won back some of the respect he had lost. His younger daughter was to be married the second day of the Flower Month to the Crown Prince of Lamar: Alejandro. There was much rejoicing. The alliance had been restored with the strongest of the Three Kingdoms.   
  
Many of the courtiers that surrounded the King wondered why he had not married his elder daughter, as she was almost past the acceptable marriageable age. Her younger sister had just come of marriageable age and would have been acceptable for more years to come.   
  
The King kept his own counsel on these matters.   
  
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---A/N--- A short chapter, this one. The next one should be longer. Do you people like this story yet? Or do you think it needs a bit more plot to it...Hmmm. I'll work on that.   
  
Later on...as in after we get into the story a bit more...I will be holding a contest for the plot line...heehee. Start thinking...please!! And remind me that i want to do this...there is a small chance that I might remember, but with new tire swings and all, I may not.   
  
I did get a new tire swing, if you couldn't infer that from the previous sentence. I put it up all by myself! More than once, actually, since it kept falling down...but it stays now! Well- enough rambling about my tire swing! How bout about my lovely three reviewers!   
  
---Kates- thanks for reviewing and i like Thayer too. He is really just-cold-blooded liked you said.   
  
---MapleRose-Yeah, I think Sky comes in somewhere. Maybe. Although he won't play quite as large a role as in "Runner of Syrlan." Maybe I'm wrong...We'll see what happens.  
  
---cherrychica-my first reviewer of this story!! so here's the next chapter...  
  
I need a new title, I think. Does anyone have a better idea? Suggestions!!!!! :o)  
  
  
  
---EvenSong--- 


	3. Sorrows and Woes

Disclaimer: Welcome to the realm of FanFiction!   
  
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The King announced the betrothal a day after the Lamaran envoy had negotiated it. All of the courtiers who had been able to attend were in court. The King was seated at the High Table, the Queen on his left and the envoy on his right. His daughters sat to his left and the Heir sat to the Right.   
  
An expectant hush fell over the aristocrats when the King stood up. He cleared his throat softly and then began to speak.   
  
"I am quite pleased," he started, "To announce that my daughter Princess Selena of Wythin has been betrothed to Crown Prince Alejandro of Lamar." The King stood a little straighter as he heard their whisperings hum around the room. "Silence!" He commanded. "Many of you wonder, I realize, why I did not betroth my elder daughter Princess Mirian to Crown Prince Alejandro. There is an explanation for all things, but you are not ready to hear it. Think of it, my friends, as that she is already promised to someone." The murmurings flew around the rooms again. "Silence please. You may ponder this out of my sight and hearing. Now," The King smiled, "For the dancing."   
  
This ploy thoroughly distracted all of the courtiers and they obediently got up to dance.   
  
The King turned to Mirian, who was staring at him inquisitively. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. She had asked him every year since her fifteenth name day when she would be betrothed. He had always answered, in time. Now she had more of an answer, but not the full thing.   
  
Mirian tried to get her father's attention, but he was busy talking in hushed tones with the envoy and the Queen. She wondered who she was 'promised' to. Seeing that her attempt to get her father's attention was proving fruitless, she turned to her sister.   
  
"Lena, are you happy to be betrothed?" her voice was quiet, but her sister heard her perfectly.   
  
"I-I guess so. I would much rather it be you, my sister." Selena loved her sister with all her heart, and knew her just as well. She knew that her sister was deeply hurt by her father's announcement. "I will only just have turned five-and-ten, and you would be turning nine-and-ten two months after that."   
  
"I know, Lena, I know." Mirian smiled, "Here is Lord Bran to ask you for one last dance before you are married." Her sister smiled. Mirian's smile grew bigger, "Be happy, sister."   
  
"And you," returned Selena as she walked away with the young Lord Bran.   
  
Mirian watched as her sister danced with al of the young men in turn. She listened half-heartedly to the orchestra playing. Her fingers idly twirled a piece of hair between them.   
  
"Why are you not dancing, daughter?" The Queen looked fondly at her daughter.   
  
"I don't know Mother, I suppose I just don't feel like it." She gave a small smile to her mother.   
  
"Ah, I see, no one has asked you to dance, have they?" The Queen smiled knowingly at her eldest daughter. She knew that Mirian had never been lacking in partners before this night.   
  
"No," sighed Mirian, her grey eyes closing.   
  
"My daughter, you must not always think of marriage and such things. It may consume you if you are not careful." The Queen patted her daughter's small, delicate hand. "Marriage is not everything. Think of how skilled you are with the needle, and how well you handle the horses that we have. Think of the garden that you and Selena grow. Is that not important as well?"   
  
"Well, yes, I suppose so." The Princess cast her eyes down in shame.   
  
"Mirian, love, there is nothing to be ashamed of. You have been reading too many of the romantic novels." Mirian blushed slightly, and Shari laughed. "Do those girls ever think of anything but marriage? No, they don't. They are not real, my daughter, they are fantasy. You are real. A good Queen thinks of her people."   
  
"But I thought that a King did that." Mirian interjected.   
  
"True, a King does too, but the Queen is his support, you must remember. Think on this: what would you think about after marriage? Mirian, use your skills, and develop them. Do not let them go to waste."   
  
"Yes mother, I love you." The Princess looked into her mother's clear blue eyes, and she knew that her mother loved her too.   
  
"Now, I must rip your father away from this envoy." Shari turned to her husband, "My love, dance with me."   
  
The envoy grinned and waved the King away. Mirian looked over the envoy's shoulder and saw her brother slipping away in the direction of Lady Petra.   
  
"Your highness, a word?" Mirian turned to the envoy.   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"I was wondering if I may have this dance," he said gallantly.   
  
The Princess's cheeks were suffused with color, and she happily accepted his offer. They descended from the High Table regally.   
  
He was resplendent in the red and blue of Lamar, she equally so in the lavender and black of Wythin.   
  
They waltzed around the room, hand in hand. Eventually, the song came to an end and they wandered over to the table where refreshments were offered. Shyly, they talked together, while sipping wine out of ornate goblets.   
  
"I wondered why you weren't married already, Princess." Mirian looked at him sharply.   
  
"I have often wondered the same thing myself," She responded lightly. The envoy laughed.   
  
They continued talking until the music stopped.   
  
Selena smiled at her latest partner. She was enjoying the last vestiges of her freedom as an unmarried Princess. Her beautiful gown swirled around her ankles in an unexpected draft, tripping her. Her partner caught her easily, and set her on her feet again.   
  
"Thank you," Selena was breathless from dancing, and her words came out breathily. Her partner smiled graciously and they started to resume dancing, but found that there was no music to dance to.   
  
Michel smiled at Lady Petra. She was his friend since childhood. She understood him. They waltzed through the deserted gardens, straining to hear the faint music.   
  
Without warning, Michel was supporting Petra's whole weight. He sagged, then straightened. He set her gently on a stone bench and checked her heartbeat. It was still there and strong. She wasn't dead, but she was unconscious. Michel stood and looked for the attacker. No one was to be seen.   
  
There was only silence.   
  
The King knew the exact moment the music stopped. He sighed. How ironic, he thought, that he would lose both daughters in such quick succession.   
  
"What is going on?" Shari clung tighter to him. She was afraid, he could tell.   
  
"Do not fear my love, all will be well in the end." He spoke comforting words as he stroked her golden hair. "Go collect Selena and the other Ladies and get to a private room. Make sure you are safe." The King pushed her away.   
  
"No, please no," Shari clung to him, but he gently pushed her off.   
  
"Go, my love, and Sky be with you."   
  
"I love you always." Shari kissed him passionately and then raised an arm. "To me, my Ladies! To me!" The Ladies of the court obediently came to the Queen's call. She ushered them out of the great hall and into her own chambers.   
  
"Why are we here?"   
  
"What's going on?"   
  
"Why did the music stop?"   
  
"Where's Petra?"   
  
"Where's Princess Mirian?"   
  
The questions flew about the chamber. The last one sent Shari into motion.   
  
"Selena, Mirian, please, come hither." Selena obediently came to the Queen's side, but Mirian was nowhere to be found. "Mirian!" Shari moaned, wide eyed, "Why are you not here?" Shari tried to leave the room, but two guards blocked her progress.   
  
"No, my Queen, the King has ordered you not to leave this room. You will be safe here." Shari turned back into the room in defeat. She sat on her bed and wept.   
  
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---A/N--- This chapter was a bit longer, I think. Although it was a cliff ::snickers evilly:: I promise more will be up soon. I've been busy freezing myself at marching band.   
  
---MapleRose-I made up Kalid-Na'in. Microsoft Word hates me now...but heehee:o)  
  
---cherrychica-It's a loose sequel to Runner of Syrlan. Really loose. It's on the same continent as Syrlan, and it borders Syrlan. It's also set paralell to the end of it. That's about it. I'm working on Shadeth and her story.   
  
I need a new title!!! Does anyone have a better idea? Suggestions!!!!! :o)  
  
  
  
---EvenSong--- 


	4. The Three

Disclaimer: Welcome to the realm of FanFiction!   
  
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Mirian hurried to follow the other women to her mother, but her father impeded her progress.   
  
"No, my daughter. You shall not follow their path. Remain by my side, and I will protect you." The king smiled sadly at her. She noticed how deeply his face was creased. It hadn't seemed that old months ago, she was sure. She looked at his snowy hair and his blue eyes.   
  
On impulse she hugged him. "I love you, Papa." It had been a long time since she had called him Papa, and he smiled a bit more.   
  
"I love you too, Mirian," The King drew a long breath and cried, "To me! To me! To me, my men, to me!" The courtiers ranged out behind the King. They faced the great paneled doors, ceremonial swords drawn.  
  
Michel rushed into the great hall, wondering what had happened. He instantly drew his own sword and ran to stand beside his father and sister.   
  
They stood poised for a fight, waiting for an enemy only the King could fathom. A knock reverberated across the great door. The King motioned for the pages to open it.   
  
Three men stepped through the door, swords at the ready. Each sword bore the mark of the Kalid-Na'in.   
  
"I have come to claim what is mine, King of the Wyth. Are you prepared to give it to me?" One of the Three spoke, stepping out in front of his two companions.   
  
"I will not give it up, not with out a fight." The King raised his head proudly.   
  
"Then a fight you shall have, regardless of the pact we made twelve years ago to the day." The man raised his sword in a salute, and the King did the same.   
  
"Michel, Mirian, get out of the way." His children obeyed without question, although Michel flung him a hurt look.   
  
The King knew that this was a fight that he would lose. He was mad to try to battle the Kalid-Na'in- they were virtually impervious to steel. He whispered a single word, "Charge."   
  
The battle was brief but bloody. Only five of the combatants remained standing: the three Kalid-Na'in, the Lamaran envoy and the King.   
  
"Thayer the Mercenary, you have won. Take what is rightfully yours." Then the King collapsed.   
  
Michel held Mirian, shielding her from the grisly sight of the great hall. He regretted that he could not spare her from the sounds. She sobbed into his shoulder.   
  
He had hidden them fairly well behind one of the many tapestries in the great hall. He had hidden them well enough that the three Kalid-Na'in could not find them until Mirian's sobs had calmed down into disconsolate hiccups.   
  
Thayer ran to the Queen's chambers where the page had told him that all the Ladies had gone to. The guards to that room were dead before they knew what had hit them.  
  
He unbolted the door and plunged into a seething mass of silk.   
  
"Silence!" his bellow echoed through out the chamber. "Where is the Princess Mirian?" He addressed his question to a thin woman sitting on the bed.   
  
"If only I knew!" She lamented loudly.   
  
Thayer growled and stormed out of the room. A trail of Ladies followed him back to the great hall. Many of them shrieked when they saw their husbands, their lovers, their friends, their brothers lying among masses of blood and gore. None of them fainted.   
  
Thayer paced angrily across the bloody floor, muttering to himself and to his companions.   
  
"Where could she be?" Thayer stopped pacing for a moment. "Garrod, Lohengrin, search everywhere. I want what is mine." The Three strode off in different directions.   
  
The Queen stood tall, watching the Kalid-Na'in invade her home. When they began to search, she walked over to her husband, and looked at him. His hair was now pure white, and the creases were so deeply etched in his face, she didn't think that anything could smooth them out. She bent down, ignoring the blood that soaked her dress. Silently, she reached out a shaking hand to close her beloved's sightless blue eyes.   
  
"I love you," she whispered. Two crystalline tears dropped off her cheeks and into the King's beard. She rose again, and walked back to the cluster of Ladies. "Selena, come to me."   
  
Selena threw herself into her mother's arms and just sobbed.   
  
"Ladies, friends, go tend to your wounded or dead." The Queen's voice quavered as she swallowed her own tears.   
  
Mirian's head was buried in Michel's damp shoulder, and she hiccupped softly every few seconds. She didn't know why she had not been allowed to go with the other Ladies, and she was scared. She had heard the sounds of battle and the screams as each man was cut down.  
  
The concealment that the tapestry provided was welcome, because it spared her from the horrible sight that lay beyond. She shuddered and started to cry softly again.   
  
Lohengrin had checked behind many finely embroidered tapestries. He ran his hands over one that depicted a dragon battling a unicorn. He lifted it up and scanned the wall behind it. There was nothing. He moved onto the next tapestry.   
  
It was embroidered with a naiad and a unicorn dancing in a field full of flowers. He jerked it aside and found a girl crying onto the shoulder of a boy.   
  
"Thayer!" He called to his companion.   
  
"Stand back," warned the boy, drawing a ceremonial sword. Lohengrin calmly unsheathed his own blade.   
  
"Lohengrin, separate them, but harm neither." Thayer's blade appeared next to Lohengrin's.   
  
Mirian looked up at the two men standing before her. "Michel, put it away," she whispered softly.   
  
The man called Thayer chuckled, "She is wise, young Prince." Michel lowered his sword, but held onto Mirian tighter. "Let go of her."   
  
"No!" Michel was filled with a longing to protect his older sister.   
  
"Michel," Mirian tugged on his tunic, "Do as he says!" Her doe-like dark eyes pleaded with him. Reluctantly, he released his clenching hold on her sleeves.   
  
"Why?" He whispered, the hurt showing painfully on his face.   
  
"Because Wythin needs a King," Mirian said in a dull monotone. "Be that King!" Her eyes held a wild look of longing as the warrior wrenched her away from Michel.   
  
Shari watched through tear filled eyes as the warrior called Thayer slung one of her beloved children over his shoulder. She watched as Michel ran to his father's fallen form, crying silently. The world seemed smaller suddenly, as if there was not space enough for her to live without her husband. She sighed and turned to Selena.   
  
"Selena, my darling, would you go fetch the Healer? I am feeling ill." Selena hurried away, and Shari slowly sank to the floor. Dispassionately, she allowed the blackness that crept around the edges of her vision to consume her entirely. It was blissful relief from what had happened.   
  
---  
  
.-.A/N.-. Wow...this took me long enough! (At least, that's what it feels like...it's only been a week though, according to my calendar.)   
  
I'm sooo sooo sooo happy! I got to go to the Kimmel Center in Philadelphia to hear the Philly Orchestra perform Stravinsky's, "The Firebird" It was so awesome! My cousin was announced to everyone because she is Assistant Concert Master, and so, the whole band/orchestra knows that my cousin is first chair in the Orchestra!! Wow...I loved it.   
  
.-.MapleRose-if you think of a new title...tell me please! :o)  
  
.-.Ko-Shani-you're right...that was a lot of questions! I think that a lot of your questions should be answered in this chapter...I think.   
  
I need a new title!!! Does anyone have a better idea? Suggestions!!!!! :o)  
  
  
  
.-.EvenSong.-. 


	5. Fairy Tale Princess

Disclaimer: Welcome to the realm of FanFiction!   
  
Many thanks of Kaydan for betaing this!!  
  
---  
  
Lady Marisa ran to her brother and knelt beside him. "Are you alive? Will you live?"   
  
"I am fine, my sister. Do not fear for me- tend to Haran. All I have is a simple scratch; I will survive until the trainees reach me." Johan smiled up at his twin. "Go," He said. She went.   
  
Johan glanced at his 'simple scratch'. It was a gory mess that stained the lower parts of his hose red. He knew that he had already lost too much blood to survive but a few minutes longer. He also knew that Haran was in much worse shape than he was.   
  
He had seen Haran go down with a gaping hole in his upper body. He sighed.   
  
Marisa's face peered into his. "Haran is dead, Johan." Her voice was dull and listless.   
  
"I know you loved him, Risa. I am sorry."   
  
Marisa began to speak to him, but he did not hear most of it. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, and not fully aware of what was going on around him.   
  
"Johan! I've got a Healer!" Marisa was leading a harried looking man in a green Healer's robe.   
  
Johan blinked and saw the face of the Healer bending over him. "You won't live but a few more minutes, milord."  
  
"I know," Johan whispered. "Love you, Risa."   
  
"Johan? What's wrong? You said you'd be alright." Marisa's face swam into focus.   
  
"I won't live much longer…too much blood lost. Love you always." He closed his eyes, waiting to die. He could hear Risa crying over him. He heard the Healer leave him.   
  
"Oh Risa, I'm so sorry." That was Princess, which one was it? Oh yes, Selena. "Come, let's make him more comfortable." He felt a pair of hands supporting his head. He just wanted to fade into the blackness, to die.   
  
Then warmth seeped through him, warming him to the very ends of his extremities. The blackness receded from his mind as the hands continued to comfort him. He could hear Risa sobbing close to him, and reached out to comfort her.   
  
---  
  
Mirian was flung over Thayer's shoulder in a most undignified manner. She saw Shari crumple to the ground and she screamed. She saw all the blood-splattered people walking around in a daze, and wondered that she was not one of them.   
  
She was amazed at the sight of the havoc wreaked by her captors. She cried out when she saw her father's motionless form lying on the ground. The tears fell like rain from her eyes.   
  
"Papa!" she cried over and over again, until Thayer yelled at her to stop. She was carried out into the night watching the people she loved slowly turning their backs on her, not even making the motions of attempting to rescue her. All except Michel.   
  
Michel's eyes were connected with hers until she was out of sight. Her tears were falling in earnest, and she felt as alone as she had ever felt in her life.   
  
---  
  
Thayer picked up his Princess and slung her across the horse's withers. She gasped, but that was it. He thought that she amazingly well controlled for a Princess, for he had grown up on tales of heroes saving princesses, who screamed until they had been rescued. His Princess seemed to be different.   
  
She was dark and exotic compared the tale-Princesses, who were blonde-blue-eyed beauties. She was silently bearing her physical and emotional pain while the fairy tale Princesses would have been screaming for someone to rescue them.   
  
Thayer swung onto his horse and picked the Princess up in his arms, carrying her in front of him. She held herself stiffly away from him.   
  
"Suit yourself," Thayer said as he kicked the horse into a bouncy trot. He figured that a cultured Princess would fall off the horse, as she would have been trained for such dainty things as embroidery.   
  
His Princess did no such thing.  
  
She situated herself so that the horse's rhythm matched her own and proved to Thayer that she was not a fairy-tale Princess.   
  
"I will," she responded coldly. She sniffed resolutely and continued to stay as far away from his body as she could.   
  
The stallion followed Lohengrin's mare and Garrod's prancing stallion into a ground-eating canter. They rode in silence, turning onto obscure paths that only the Three knew.   
  
---  
  
-A/N- Ick...bad computer, bad! Stupid thing wasn't working all that well earlier, so I couldn't post as soon as I wanted to. I know this chapter is kind of short...but it will be made up for in time...:oD  
  
As i said earlier...many thanks to Kayden Eidyak for betaing this!! Really appreciate it.  
  
I've been thinking of some alternate titles...tell me which one you like best, make up your own, or just review any way.   
  
1. Shattered Decorum.   
  
2. Ceremonial Swords  
  
3. A King's Promise  
  
4. Broken Promise (supplied by the wonderful maplerose)  
  
5. Other...you supply...  
  
So, take your pick and tell me either in a review or send e-mail to me at: shardsofsong@aol.com  
  
I would aslo like to thank my reviewers...:o)  
  
::Maplerose: Yes, he was quite selfish wasn't he? I would fight for someone i loved, i know that. Wouldn't you? So we're all a little selfish when it comes to things like that...the men were actually happy (in a sense) to die for their king, they loved him. THANK YOU so much for your title...i like that one. It did end up inspiring some of mine. no one else gave me a title...::glares::  
  
::Ko-Shani: next chapter...and more questions no doubt, which is *not* a bad thing.   
  
::Kates: So you like the Kalid-Na'in too? Hehheh...:oD  
  
Anyway...remember to tell a title you like, review and keep putting up with me and my computer...!!  
  
EvenSong 


	6. Fiacha

Disclaimer: Welcome to the realm of FanFiction!   
  
Many thanks of Kaydan for betaing this!!  
  
---  
  
6.  
  
I watched them and laughed to myself. The mercenary did not realize what kind of woman he had taken on. They rode as I watched them, the three Kalid-Na'in and their captive Princess.   
  
The mercenary was adapting well to the life that I had forced him to take. I wanted him dead, and through means of my own I would make him so. I would have my revenge on him. I would get revenge for what had been done to me so many years before.   
  
The poor girl was holding up well, considering the ride that the mercenary was taking her on. She would do well for her part.   
  
I laughed again; he would die, and not in battle like he would have hoped. He would die by the hands of one he loved, I was sure of it.   
  
I would have my revenge, and it would sate my thirst for the blood that the mercenary had taken from me. He would pay. He would pay for my lost blood with his own lifeblood.   
  
I laughed, and watched them ride until they reached the haven where even I could not see.   
  
He would beg for mercy when the time was right. I knew it.   
  
I wrapped myself in fire and released my hounds.   
  
---  
  
-A/N- I know, i know...this chapter was really short!! I promise, the next ones will be longer!!! Really. This is just to introduce the major source of evil in the story. As far as I've got this mapped out, after this chapter is a very long one.   
  
Thank you to Ko-Shani for picking a title and suggesting one!!   
  
1. Shattered Decorum.   
  
2. Ceremonial Swords  
  
3. A King's Promise  
  
4. Broken Promise (thank you to maplerose!)  
  
5. A Deadly Promise (thanks ko-shani!)  
  
6. Other...you supply...  
  
So, take your pick and tell me either in a review or send e-mail to me at: shardsofsong@aol.com  
  
I would aslo like to thank my reviewers...:o)  
  
::Ko-Shani: wow- no questions? lol...well, this chapter should (i hope) raise some questions...!!!  
  
Over Thanksgiving Break, i should have a nice amount of free time to get lots posted. :oD  
  
EvenSong 


	7. Bargains and Tears

Disclaimer: Welcome to the realm of FanFiction!   
  
---  
  
7.  
  
Thayer glanced down at the Princess, who was sleeping on his bed. She looked peaceful while asleep; the worries of the waking world not etched upon her brow.   
  
"Thayer," Lohengrin said softly. "Thayer, the Prince Corbin of Syrlan is here. He wishes to buy our services. I told him we could make no decision unless we are all together." Lohengrin took Thayer's arm and led him away from the bed. "Come."   
  
Thayer walked with Lohengrin, composing himself. He slipped a smile into place, and ran a hand through his short hair.   
  
"Greetings, Prince Corbin. I bid you welcome." Thayer held out his hand for the Prince to shake. Corbin stared at it, as if he did not know what it was for. "Shake my hand, Prince," Thayer said calmly.   
  
Dubiously, the Prince shook the mercenary's hand.   
  
"Mercenary, I wish to buy your services. I need you to help me fight in the war with Lamar. Our troops are being overwhelmed by the hordes that Lamar sends out. Syrlan needs your help!" Corbin's hands were squeezing Thayer's arms tightly, showing clearly his distress.   
  
"How much do you pay?" Thayer got to the point quickly.   
  
"Two-hundred silver nobles per battle; bonuses if we win the battle." Corbin became distant and curt.   
  
"Come back in a week and we will tell you whether we will help you or not." Thayer turned and started to walk away.   
  
"No, we don't have that much time! Syrlan will be defeated by that time! Please, help us! You must, if you care about anything." Thayer turned and saw the wild look in Corbin's eyes and he was reminded of himself before he was one of the Kalid-Na'in.   
  
He had pled with Her the same way that Corbin was pleading with him now.   
  
Gruffly, he pushed the memory aside and sighed. "We will help you, Prince Corbin."   
  
"Oh thank you." Corbin smiled wanly and bowed to the three men. He turned to go, but he stopped when he heard a feminine voice call out imperiously.   
  
Mirian awoke and couldn't remember where she was at first. Her mind whirled as she tried to understand why she was not in her own bedroom. As the last fogs of sleep cleared from her mind, she remembered.   
  
"Hello?" She called, quietly at first. Then louder, and more demanding, "Is anyone there?"   
  
She got out of the hard bed and straightened her dress. Trembling, she brushed a strand of dark hair out of her face. Mirian found the door and walked out of the little room that she was in.   
  
"Oh." She said softly as Thayer glared at her. A young man with brown hair stared openly at her. The one called Lohengrin rolled his eyes and rested his forehead on his hand. The other man just grinned.   
  
Corbin had never seen a more beautiful woman in all his life. Her beautiful eyes looked around in terror. He stared at her in amazement, his mouth hanging open slightly.   
  
"Princess Mirian," Thayer said caustically, "What are you doing out here?"   
  
"I-I want to go home," the beautiful girl said and then burst into tears.   
  
Corbin rushed to her side, wanting to comfort her. He put one hand on her back, in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "Hush now, don't cry." Over her shoulder, he glared at the Three mercenaries. "I cannot believe that you would kidnap a Princess! I refuse to make a bargain with you."   
  
Thayer shrugged; his country wasn't the one on the verge of defeat. "If that is what you want. If you refuse to make a deal with us, then you must leave."   
  
Corbin's mouth opened and closed, like a fish, as he realized what he had done.  
  
"Lohengrin, Garrod, please, escort Prince Corbin back to the edge of our territory. I will attend to- matters- here."   
  
Lohengrin and Garrod easily picked up the Prince, and his things, and dragged him away. Thayer slowly walked over to Mirian and stood over her.   
  
For a long time, he just listened to her sobs.   
  
"Mirian," he said softly, as he bent down to kneel next to her. His hand gently held her thin arm.   
  
"Get off of me!" She screamed at him. "You killed my father, and kidnapped me, and-and-and," Her hysterics included hiccups, and every few words were interrupted. "You are a horrible," hiccup, "person! I hate," hiccup, "you! Just take me," hiccup, "home! Now!" Mirian glared at him through her tears, her body shaken by violent hiccups every few seconds.   
  
Her anger dissipated as quickly as it had come, and soon she was crumpled on the floor, crying freely.  
  
"Oh, Princess," Thayer said softly, slightly disturbed by her inaccurate accusations. Gently, he picked her up like a little child and rocked her back and forth.   
  
---  
  
-A/N- I lied! One more really short chapter, and then a nice long one! I promise! I have it, it's just a metter of having it betaed and then posting so...  
  
remember to pick your favorite title! Please!!! :o)   
  
1. Shattered Decorum.   
  
2. Ceremonial Swords  
  
3. A King's Promise  
  
4. Broken Promise   
  
5. A Deadly Promise  
  
6. Other...you supply...  
  
Please, tell me what you like. I really want a different title.   
  
I would aslo like to thank my reviewer...:o)  
  
::Kates: Thayer does need to learn...lol!   
  
Hmm...I realized today that i didn't post the last chapter when i thought I had. oops. Well, you can take two in one day...:o)  
  
EvenSong 


	8. Fiacha

Disclaimer: Welcome to the realm of FanFiction!   
  
---  
  
8.  
  
I laughed as I watched them, the mercenaries, the Prince, the Princess, and Thayer. They had no idea of what they were doing, or the trap that they were walking into.   
  
Now I had my vessel; I knew who would do well to kill Thayer. I had seen the way that he had looked at the Princess, the 'beautiful girl'.   
  
My revenge would be sweet.   
  
---  
  
-A/N- So here's the really short chapter. Have no fear- the next one is like 5 Word pages long.   
  
remember to pick your favorite title! Please!!! :o)   
  
1. Shattered Decorum.   
  
2. Ceremonial Swords  
  
3. A King's Promise  
  
4. Broken Promise   
  
5. A Deadly Promise  
  
6. Other...you supply...  
  
Please, tell me what you like. I really want a different title.   
  
Can't thank my reviewers...just putting up the chapters all in one go there...remember to review plese!   
  
How about three chapters for today? Is that okay? Lol...well, enjoy!   
  
EvenSong 


	9. Alone

Disclaimer: Welcome to the realm of FanFiction! (stick a couple funky fanfares in there too...)  
  
---  
  
9.  
  
Selena sat in the cemetery, her gown of black silk billowing around her. "Oh Papa, why did you and Mirian have to leave me all at once? Why couldn't you have stayed for me?" She sniffed. "I love you, Papa."   
  
"Princess Selena, come inside; it's cold out." Selena ignored her maidservant. She was in mourning, and would remain that way until she chose to do otherwise.   
  
"Princess! Come inside at once!" The woman that called her this time marched out into the cold and grabbed the Princess's elbow. "You will catch a cold and I don't want have to listen to your sniveling anymore than I have to. Now come inside!"   
  
Selena followed her old governess meekly. "But Maude…" She protested weakly.   
  
"No buts!" Maude snapped irritably. "You are going to bed this instant and you will stay there until I say so." Maude continued to drag Selena through the hallways until they arrived at Selena's suite of rooms.   
  
"Now get in bed!" Maude barked. Selena took off her outer layer of puffy skirts and slipped under the covers.   
  
"Thanks, Maude." Selena's eye closed sleepily.   
  
"You're welcome, princess," Maude said fondly. She tucked the covers tightly around Selena and lightly kissed her forehead. As the princess's breathing set into a steady rhythm, Maude closed the drapes and snuffed out all but one candle. "Sleep tight," She whispered.   
  
If Selena heard through her dreams, she didn't let on but for a small smile.   
  
---  
  
Maude quietly left the Selena's room for the Queen's. Shari had been sick ever since her husband had died, and Maude knew it was not an illness of the body.   
  
No- Shari's illness was of the heart. She had not been well since they had covered his body with the frozen dirt. She had loved him so much, and to lose him so quickly had been a hard blow for the Queen.   
  
She was holding up well, in Maude's opinion.   
  
The door to the Queen's room was guarded by to men-at-arms who looked constantly worried. As well they should, thought Maude.   
  
"I am here to see the Queen," Maude stated softly.   
  
"Enter then, and help her," one of the soldiers replied with a pleading note in his voice.   
  
"I will do my best," Maude patted his shoulder. She pushed open the ornately carved door and walked inside the dark room. "My Queen, I am here."  
  
"Maude?" Shari's thin voice called out.  
  
"Yes, child."   
  
"Is my daughter," Shari's voice cracked, "is she well?"   
  
"Selena sleeps like the child that once she was. She is fine." Maude walked over to the nearest candle, and lit it quickly from the few candles burning. "Shari, dear, you must eat something!" She looked around at the tray of food on the floor. It was only picked at.   
  
"I'm not hungry," Shari whispered. "I don't want to eat anything. I'll just throw it up again anyway." Maude looked at Shari's slender form lying on the huge bed.   
  
"Shari, love, please, for Selena's sake, live! Eat something, my dear, you must!" Maude walked softly over to the bedside. "Can you make her lose another loved one now? Could you bear to do that to her?" Maude stroked the Queen's hair as she had done to Selena.   
  
"I almost wish I could," Shari said, a note of guilt in her voice. "Everything would be so simple then," she sighed  
  
"But it would not be right," Maude said firmly.   
  
"No," Shari agreed.   
  
"Eat something, my Queen." Maude held up a slice of fine bread. "Here," She handed to the Queen.   
  
"No, I will dine in the hall," Shari said determinedly. "Help me dress." Maude smiled and complied.   
  
---  
  
When the Queen walked out of her chamber for the first time in a month, the soldiers could not believe their eyes. She was real, however, and not just an apparition of their hopes.   
  
Her hands shook as she clung to Maude for support, and her cheeks were gaunt, but she was real!   
  
The two soldiers bowed deeply, smiling broadly. They watched their Queen take small, dogged steps out into the palace. The hem of her midnight blue gown inched slowly past, but soon it was gone.   
  
Wherever Queen Shari walked, courtiers and servant alike stopped and stared, suddenly remembered their manners, and then bowed low to their monarch.   
  
Shari herself made an effort to smile at every single person as she passed them. Her steps became less shaky, and she stood straighter.   
  
Maude smiled serenely; seemingly oblivious to the stares that she was getting from the people they passed.   
  
"Mother!" Shari looked back and smiled at her son. "Mother! You're well!"  
  
"Yes, Michel, I am. Come, now, escort me to supper, I am famished," Shari said quietly. She let go of Maude's arm and took Michel's instead.   
  
Maude watched them walk off in the stately, dignified manner that all members of the nobility seemed to have.   
  
---  
  
Marisa looked up when the cry of delight swept through the hall. There, in the archway, stood the Queen. She and the Prince were resplendent in their fine outfits, and Risa smiled happily when she saw that both were alive and well.   
  
"Oh look at him!" Risa smiled at Petra, who was sitting beside her. "He looks so…so handsome!" Petra giggled.   
  
"Petra!" Risa said, pretending to be scandalized. "You know you must not speak of our Prince so," Then, she too burst out with muted titters. The glares that they got were enough to silence their laughter for the moment.   
  
Risa kept a straight face the minimum amount of time that she had too. The second it was polite to laugh and talk amongst her fellows, she did so.   
  
"Oh Petra, I'm so happy for you!" She squealed.   
  
"I know!" Petra giggled and clutched at Risa's hand. "I was so worried!"   
  
Risa sighed and felt self-pity rising up in her. Everyone around her seemed to have someone that they love. She had loved Haran, but he was dead and buried now. She loved Johan too, but he could never, ever fill the place that Haran had had in her heart.   
  
"Risa! Risa, are you alright?" Risa snapped back and saw Petra, a worried look on her face.   
  
"I'm fine," she said, albeit with a hint of sadness. Feeling slightly depressed, she turned to the meal that was being served.   
  
Through out the rest of the rather large, impromptu meal, Risa made and commented on superficial statements floating around.   
  
Petra seemed as happy as any young woman of the court could become without breaching the longstanding bonds of etiquette that tied them all. She burbled on happily about frivolous things such as dresses and embroidery occasionally, but most of her conversational time was spent on the subject of Crown Prince Michel.   
  
Within their circle of five close friends, only three ladies knew of Petra's love for Michel. Out of those three, only Risa knew that Petra's love was returned.  
  
Risa sighed, almost determined to stay within her melancholy mood.   
  
"Milady," she looked up and smiled at her brother. "May I have this dance?" Johan's eyes were full of laughter suppressed behind a mask of formality.   
  
She delicately extended her hand. "Why of course," she murmured demurely, trying not to laugh herself, "For I would dance with no one else."   
  
Johan took her hand and whirled her out onto the floor of the great hall. They had danced like this when they were younger and not willing to dance with any of the other children their age.   
  
Johan had chosen a spirited gavotte for them to dance to, which was appropriate.   
  
"Come Risa, smile for me!" Johan said as they broke out of their circle formation for a few moments. She mustered a small smile, but nothing more. Soon they were back in the circle, spinning and flying around with the gaiety of the dance.   
  
"That's more like it!" Johan said from across the circle. Risa's face hurt she was smiling so hard.   
  
There was nothing about that dance that inspired sadness; in truth, one could not help but smile.   
  
"Thank you, Johan," Risa giggled at the end of the dance.   
  
"It was my duty," he replied solemnly. Then, in complete contrast, he swept her into a great hug. "Glad to see you're back, Risa," he said.   
  
---  
  
-A/N- ::Sigh:: A long chapter at last! As some of you counted, that ;ast one was a grand total of 5 sentences. much too short.   
  
1. Shattered Decorum.   
  
2. A King's Promise  
  
3. Broken Promise   
  
4. A Deadly Promise  
  
We have narrowed the titles down to four...take your pick! As for my reviewers...how you can tell that the chapters are up so fast, i don't know....Anyway:  
  
Ko-Shani: Yeah, any chapter entitled Fiacha is "Her".   
  
Maplerose: yeah, you can bug me, cause at least when you update, the chapters are more than a couple of sentences, lol. Fiacha means Raven (i think...maybe in iriah or gaelic, don't really know) Haven't truly figured out if the villian is Hate or not. I think Liana and Cedric will have a cameo in here somewhere. heehee...  
  
Kates: thanks for your long reviews! Yeah, Thayer is ubercool!! You liked the hiccups too? :o)  
  
EvenSong 


	10. Imortality and Death

Disclaimer: Blah....blah....blah  
  
---  
  
10.  
  
Mirian looked out of the window, her face expressionless. There was plenty for her to do in the home of the Kalid-Na'in, but she had not the energy to do it.   
  
She could have embroidered a fine pattern for a tapestry. She could have sewn a beautiful dress or gone for an afternoon ride. One of the Three would have accompanied her no matter where she went, so she could not have the privacy she so desperately wanted.   
  
A grand harp was set up in the lower levels of her new home, and she was free to play in when she wished. The dust was still on its strings however, and Mirian had no plans to change that. There were a plethora of other instruments that were waiting for her if she chose to use them; they were stored in the tower rooms that reached for the sky.   
  
A great library took up the entire second floor of this place. Mirian was sitting there now, trying to sketch the beautiful landscape displayed before her. Her paper was blank, the charcoal untouched.   
  
"She is my captive, you little bastard Princeling!" Thayer was yelling once more at Prince Corbin. "She is none of your business!" Mirian was watching this scene unfold with a detached interest.   
  
"You must show respect, mercenary!" Corbin yelled back, his brown hair flying every which way. "You do not accord me the respect that I am due!"   
  
Thayer was the picture of calm. He stood there, rock solid and impassive. "You know," he said with a dangerous intensity, "I was once like you: arrogant and spoiled."   
  
"I am not arrogant, mercenary, I have pride and dignity." Corbin held his head high, eyes flashing with anger.   
  
Mirian noted with a touch of cynicism that Corbin made no objections to the claim that he was spoiled.   
  
"When I was as you are now, I, too, thought it pride. You will find out the consequences of your childish words if you are not careful. You never know who- or what- may be listening." With that, Thayer took a step back from the Prince.   
  
"What mean you by that?" Corbin asked indignantly, although Mirian could tell he was frightened. The Prince's voice had risen with each word he uttered. "Who listens?"   
  
Thayer stepped closer once again. "I will not tell you. You will either find out through experience or not at all." The mercenary stepped back. "You will know if you are meant to know."   
  
Mirian listened intently, straining to catch every word they said. Unfortunately for her suddenly curious self, Thayer said no more, only stood stoically facing the Prince with his arms crossed.   
  
However, Prince Corbin had no such intentions of staying silent. "How dare you talk to me like that! You are no more than a dirty mercenary who lives on what little money that he can get, whereas I am a Prince! You must show me more respect-" Corbin's words were cut off abruptly.   
  
Thayer stood there, an expression of cool, calculating calm on his face. His belt knife was pressed against the tender skin of the Prince's throat. Mirian had thought that the bejeweled little blade was nothing more than a vain decoration, and from the Prince's expression, so had he.   
  
"Don't ever speak to me like that again, do you understand?" His voice was low and intense, rumbling through his chest.   
  
"Yes," squeaked Corbin, "sir!" The Prince gulped in air and rubbed his throat when Thayer dropped the knife.   
  
Mirian was leaning on the windowsill; so intent on the scene below her that she didn't hear Lohengrin come in.   
  
"Princess! What in Sky's name are you doing?" Mirian saw Thayer's eyes flick up toward the tower window before she turned around.   
  
"Well," she started off icily, "I was sketching." She gestured imperiously at the charcoal and blank paper.   
  
"Doesn't look like that to me," Lohengrin said with a chuckle. "It looked like you were eavesdropping on Thayer and Prince Corbin down in the courtyard." The mercenary grinned.   
  
"You seem to have been doing the same thing," Mirian replied stiffly, not liking his familiar manner with her. "I was trying to sketch though, but I just couldn't concentrate," she said in a warmer tone.   
  
"Ah," said Lohengrin, as if that explained everything. "Why don't you come with me for a ride, right now."   
  
Mirian almost smiled before she caught herself. "I- I guess so…" she looked up uncertainly at Lohengrin.   
  
"Come, leave all that here," he said, referring to the sketching materials with a swoop of his arm, "And meet at the stables as soon as possible."   
  
"Alright…and- thank you, Sir Lohengrin."   
  
"Ah, Mirian, I'm not a noble knight. Call me Lohen." And with that cheerful parting word, he left the library to go ready their horses.   
  
Mirian appeared a short while later dressed in riding britches and a loose muslin shirt. She watched Lohen saddle the horses until he noticed her.   
  
"Welcome Princess," He said after a quick pause. "Take Mouse here- she's a quiet little mare suited just fine for you." he handed her the reins of the dun mare.   
  
"Thank you, Lohen." She pointedly ignored his offer to help her into the saddle and swung up gracefully herself. "Where will we be riding?"   
  
Lohen mounted his grey mare and nudged the horse into a trot. "We're going into the forest."   
  
"Come on, Mouse," She said to the horse. "Get up." The mare lumbered into a half-hearted trot, not even trying to keep up with Lohen's horse.   
  
They rode on for a time, not speaking, only observing the wildlife around them.   
  
"Easy, girl," Lohen said as he slowed the grey to a walk. "Catch up, will you?" He called over his shoulder to Mirian.   
  
Mirian glared at his back and kept after Mouse to move. Finally she was caught up. With stormy grey eyes, she looked at Lohen. "You could have slowed down," she informed him.   
  
"I could have," the mercenary agreed genially. "We'll walk the rest of the way."   
  
Mirian was bursting with questions, but her pride kept them strictly in check. "Fine," was all she said.   
  
The hooves of the horses falling on the spongy loam were the only non-native sound that echoed through the forest. Wind soughing through the trees played with Mirian's hair as they rode over the beaten path.   
  
"Here we are," Lohengrin whispered at last. He urged his mare through the shrubbery and Mirian's Mouse followed, snatching a bite of greenery to chomp on.   
  
"Look at it," Mirian gasped in delight. The little glade was almost too perfect to be real.   
  
"It is beautiful, isn't it?" Lohen replied with a smile. "You would never have guessed that once this whole area was covered with blood and death, would you?"   
  
"What do you mean?" Mirian asked him, looking perplexed. With a creak from the saddle, she slid off of Mouse's back and onto the ground.   
  
Lohen smiled at her. "Give me a moment, and I will tell you. Here, give me Mouse's lead, I'll make sure she won't go anywhere." Lohen kneed the grey over to a tree, dragging Mouse along behind. Skilled fingers tied up Mouse, and then the grey to separate trees with lots of fresh greens in nibbling distance.   
  
Mirian was walking around the glade, stopping to touch anything that caught her fancy. Finally, she sat down in a patch of sunlight and waited for Lohen.   
  
Lohen folded his hands together and sat down on the ground. "There was once a great Queen. She was loved by all of her people. She ruled them with a fair hand and a wise head, and their land- the Shanlan Isles- was prosperous. They were isolated in the ocean, and so, it was a great expanse of time before the news of a Great War reached them.   
  
"The Queen, Leila, received a cry for help from her nearest neighbor, Tarran. She knew, deep within her heart that she must answer. It grieved her to do so, but she knew she must.   
  
"Leila sent a herald to all of the Islands and recruited their best warriors. It was a great number, for not all were warriors; some of the men and women who came were willing to take the risk to help their Queen and Country.   
  
"Leila took her force with her over the stormy seas of winter and into the closest port of Tarran. When she disembarked, a great cheer went up from those who were there. Help had come, at last!   
  
"The King of Tarran himself came to meet with Leila. He thanked her profusely and even gave her his own set of rooms to use.   
  
"She helped him fight his battles with Lamar, and watched the blood of her people mingle with his. In time, as many things happen in time, she fell in love with King Trent of Tarran.   
  
"They chose to hold their wedding here, in this very vale. The day of the ceremony was set, and only a few trusted people were asked to bear witness. Alas, a Lamaran found out and sent an army to interrupt the wedding.   
  
"The Queen and King defended themselves valiantly, and so did their people, but 'twas not good enough. First King Trent was cut down by an archer's arrow. Leila knelt by his side as he died, and held his hand till the last minute he drew breath. As soon as his eyes closed forever, she let out a blood-curdling scream that stopped everyone right where they stood.   
  
"The Queen flew into a frenzy, killing as many as possible. Finally, a sword that cut open her stomach felled her. As she lay dying in a pool of her own blood, she cursed everyone around her.   
  
"Those who saw it told tales of the Queen's bravery at her funeral. When the flames began to lick at her body, they say a raven flew up out of the ashes, taking life from the death. Many tried to interpret the omen, and none could agree.  
  
"Some said that the raven was a sign of ill will to the whole continent of Rhynne; others said that it was Leila's spirit taking wing to gain revenge. Nobody truly knows what it meant." Lohen sighed and closed his eyes. He was sprawled on the ground, pillowing his head on his arms.   
  
Mirian was leaning against a tree; her eyes were also closed. "That was a different story," she murmured.   
  
"Yeah," Lohen sighed in response. He opened one eye and looked at her. One leg was tucked up underneath of her, and her dark hair was blowing in the slight breeze that filled the glade.   
  
"Did you make that up?" She asked. When she opened her eyes, she caught him looking at her.   
  
"No ma'am!" Lohen protested. "That's all fact! Saw it with my own eyes, I did," Lohen boasted proudly.   
  
Mirian curled her lip distastefully, "You're that old?"   
  
"Aye," Lohen said with a grimace, "Although you didn't have to put it like that."   
  
"Sorry," Mirian said shortly, returning to her former iciness. "Let's go back. It's getting dark."   
  
"Alright then," Lohen got up with a sigh. "Let's go back." He walked over to Mouse and the Grey and untied them. "Here, take Mouse again," he said as he handed the reins to Mirian.   
  
Mirian took the reins silently and mounted Mouse. She waited for Lohen to get up, and then kicked a reluctant Mouse into a jarring trot. "Hurry up."   
  
"What's the rush, Princess?" Lohen asked as he trotted beside her. "You seemed to have all the time in the world a few moments ago."   
  
"Unlike you," Mirian snapped angrily as she pulled Mouse to an abrupt halt, "I am not immortal."   
  
"Oh, Princess," Lohen eyed her sadly, "I thought you knew! We Kalid-Na'in are only immortal for so long. Eventually everyone finds love, and then and only then are we released from our bond of immortality."  
  
"I trust you are saying that you do not love me?"   
  
Lohen laughed, a brittle sound that was full of pain and bitterness. "No, sweet child, not you. I have fallen in love with this forest, the land."   
  
"Does that make you mortal then?" Mirian asked him.   
  
"Sadly, no." Lohen patted the Grey fondly on the shoulder.   
  
"Why sadly?" Mirian asked, her curiosity winning over her anger.   
  
"Do you know what it is like to live forever? Of course you don't. I do, and it is not a pleasant thing. I have watched my comrades die in battle for a fair maiden. I have seen many horrors, which I will not recount for you, sweet one. Living forever is not all that it is cracked up to be, you know." Lohen smiled sadly and nudged the Grey into a canter. "Come, it is late, and we must be off."   
  
This confused Mirian. It whirled around her head like a blizzard, never stopping. She quickly kicked Mouse into a rolling canter so as not to be left behind, refusing to think about what Lohen had told her.   
  
---  
  
-A/N- Ooohh...A story within a story? Does it have signifigance? (Did I spell that correctly?) What do you people think? I love asking you guys!!   
  
Okie Dokie...Seriously thinking about Shattered Decorum or Broken Promise for the title...  
  
Ko-Shani: Eh, Petra probably was too happy, but, you never know!   
  
Kat Rowan Kamara: I like your name! So back to Thayer...sort of...more next chapter, I think. Although, I could be wrong.   
  
EvenSong 


	11. Insinuations and Insults

Disclaimer: Should I even bother with this anymore?  
  
So sorry for not updating sooner! Its been a long time...but then again, this is a long chapter so...read and review please!   
  
Happily Holidays!   
  
---  
  
11.  
  
Selena sighed and stared at the ceiling. It had precisely eighty-one, large, square, grey tiles.   
  
"Milady, hold up your arms, please." Goody Sewer said through a mouthful of pins. Selena raised her arms and rolled her eyes.   
  
"Selena, darling, that wasn't very Princess-like," her mother informed her with a smile.   
  
"I know," Selena huffed. "Ouch!" She yelped as a pin slipped through the fabric and poked her.   
  
"I'm sorry, dearie."   
  
"It's alright." Selena sighed again and thought of the pictures that had been drawn of the dress and decided that all this nonsense would be well worth it.   
  
Her dress was made from the finest scarlet silk from Lamar. Crown-Prince Alejandro had sent it several weeks ago, to the dressmakers' delight. The bodice was decorated with rubies and sapphires, all of the finest qualities, and embroidered with many intricate designs. It was complicated, tedious work for whoever was working on it, but it was looking splendid. The skirt swirled out from a high empire waist that was uncomfortable in Selena's opinion. However, it looked nice, so she put up with it.   
  
"Selena, my darling, you look wonderful!" Shari smiled at her daughter.   
  
"Oh, just smashing," Michel commented dryly from the doorway.   
  
"Thank you for you loving support, oh-brother-of-mine." Selena smiled sweetly.   
  
"Anytime, dearest one." Michel stood straighter. "Mother, I just wanted to let you know, I'm going out for a ride."   
  
"That's fine, Michel. Have fun." Shari smiled distractedly at her son.   
  
"I wish I could go," grumbled Selena.   
  
"You can't, darling, you have to get this dress finished in time!" The various ribbons that she had been looking at no longer distracted Shari.   
  
"I know, Mother!" Selena laughed, albeit a bit bitterly.  
  
"All right then," Shari smiled and went back to discussing the colors of ribbons with another dressmaker.   
  
Selena sighed again, and turned introspective, thinking of Mirian and wishing that her sister could attend the wedding.   
  
Michel jogged to the stable, enjoying the crisp fall air ruffling his hair. "Hello, Kelvin," he greeted the stable hand that waved cheerily.  
  
His horse, Quicksilver, welcomed him with a snuffle. "Hey, boy," he patted the black stallion fondly on the nose. "How about we go for a run today?" Quicksilver bobbed his head and snorted.   
  
"Here's your tack, your highness," Kelvin said, handing Michel the saddle and hanging the bridle on the stall door.   
  
"Thanks," Michel said, placing the saddle gently onto Quicksilver's back. He tightened the girth with expert speed, smacking the stallion's stomach to get him to exhale. After he put the bridle on, Michel led the stallion outside and mounted up. "I'll be back by dark, probably."   
  
"That's fine, your highness." Kelvin bowed. Michel smiled and kicked Quicksilver into a high-stepping trot.   
  
He wandered through the woods, enjoying a break from the palace and its restrictions. He had been deeply troubled by the events of the past months. His father's death had shocked everyone greatly, and Michel missed him dearly. Mirian's disappearance had also cut him deeply. He missed his older sister and the morning rides that he had gone on with her.   
  
A sharp crack of a breaking branch jolted him out of his ruminations. Quicksilver too, seemed to have been startled; the stallion's ears swiveled around alertly, listening intently.   
  
"Hello, Prince Michel. It's a little dangerous to be riding alone in the woods, isn't it?" Michel turned around in the saddle, trying to see who was speaking.   
  
"Who are you?" he shouted, urging Quicksilver forward a few steps. "Show yourself! I demand it!" He gripped the reins tighter in his sweating hands, conveying his nervousness to the edgy stallion.   
  
"Oh, you demand it, do you?" He heard a dry chuckle. "In that case, I had better show myself, shouldn't I?" The trees behind him parted to make way for the man on the black stallion.   
  
"Who are you?" Michel asked again, forcing Quicksilver to spin around in a tight circle.   
  
"I am one of Three," the man said cryptically.   
  
"What in hell does that mean?" Michel inquired, confused.   
  
The man sighed. "It means," he spoke slowly, so there was no mistake about what he was saying, "That I am one of the Kalid-Na'in."   
  
"You stole my sister!" Michel said furiously.   
  
"No, I didn't. Thayer would have, if it had been truly stealing, but she had been promised to him years ago." The man sat on his horse calmly, stolidly ignoring Michel's outrage.   
  
"Who are you?" Michel demanded for a third time. "What is your name?"  
  
"My name is Garrod." The black stallion suddenly pawed the earth as if anxious to go. "Ah, we should talk quickly."   
  
"About what?"   
  
"It is floating around the market places that your younger sister is getting married to Crown-Prince Alejandro of Lamar. When does this wedding take place?" Garrod soothed his stallion with croons and caresses.   
  
"When the moon is hidden." Michel calmed his own stallion in a similar manner.   
  
"Will it be held in Lamar or in Wythin?" Garrod asked, examining his horse's mane intently.   
  
"Lamar. Why do you want to know all this?" Michel asked suspiciously.   
  
"Well, we're coming of course!" Garrod smiled as if he had known Michel all of his life. "Mirian will be in attendance too, you know. She's been complaining about missing it. Whining, now that I think of is, is quite the more accurate description." Garrod raised an eyebrow. "We have to know when and where if we are to go."   
  
Michel fumed, letting his exasperation with the other man clearly show. "Fine. Come, all three of you! I hereby invite the Kalid-Na'in to my sister Selena's wedding in Lamar-Kith at the time of no-moon. Mirian," he paused slightly, "is already invited, of course."   
  
"Naturally, she would be." Garrod inclined his head, the first sign of subservience he had shown. "I'll be on my way then, your highness. Next time, however, I don't want to meet the future King of Wythin alone in the forest." Garrod grinned recklessly and dug his heels into his stallion's side. "Yah!" He cried as the stallion rushed past Michel in a black blur, tossing his head and churning up the ground.   
  
Michel's mount, Quicksilver, threw his head up in protest as the other stallion passed so closely, rising off the ground with an irritated snort. "Easy, laddy-boy." Michel calmed the stallion down, and then set out for the palace. He noted, with some amusement, that the sun was just barely above the horizon. He clucked to Quicksilver and the stallion broke into an excited gallop.  
  
Selena watched from the window as Michel rode up looking excited. He looked up at her and waved with much enthusiasm. The book in her hands was forgotten as she raced down the stairs and into the stable yard, searching for Michel.   
  
"Selena!" She whirled as Michel called. "I'm over here!" She bunched her skirts in one fist and raced toward him. "Guess what!"   
  
"What?" She asked, panting from her run.   
  
"Mirian will be coming to your wedding!" Michel picked up his sister and hugged her tightly. "We're going to see Mirian!"   
  
"You're serious, Michel?" Selena gasped, overjoyed. "She's coming!"  
  
"Yes, Selena, she is!" Michel paused and grinned. "We must tell Mother!"   
  
"Yes, let's hurry!" Selena grinned as well, catching onto Michel's enthusiasm. She picked up her skirts again and they dashed across the courtyard. Flying up the stairs to see the Queen, Selena couldn't stop laughing with joy. She would see her sister again!  
  
"Mother!" Michel burst into her room, not bothering to knock.   
  
"Michel?" Shari looked at him with a raised brow and smiled at her son.   
  
"Mother, Mirian's coming to my wedding!" Selena announced happily. "Can you believe it? We're going to see Mirian again!"   
  
"Oh, darlings, that's wonderful news!" Shari hugged her children tightly to her, overjoyed. "Come, tell me how you know this." The Queen sat down on the nearest couch with Selena next to her. Michel seated himself on the floor, rather ignobly in Shari's opinion.   
  
"Well, when I was out riding, a man came up to me and demanded to know when the wedding was, and where. When I asked him why, he told me, 'we're coming.' I asked him who 'we' were and he said that he was with the Kalid-Na'in who took Mirian. I told him, and he said that she would be coming! Oh isn't it wonderful Mother!" Michel leapt to his feet, alive with the excitement he felt at seeing his sister again.   
  
"Yes, Michel darling, it is. Now," Shari turned matronly, "Sit down before you break something!"   
  
"Oh, can I tell everyone?" Selena asked, wide-eyed.   
  
Shari paused, and considered this for a moment. "I believe," she said slowly, "That this would be better kept to ourselves until the day of the wedding and Mirian is there." She stroked Selena's head and smiled. "I know, you want to tell everyone now." She chuckled.   
  
"But why mustn't we tell, mother?" Michel asked her impatiently.   
  
"Well," Shari started out, not quite sure of what she would say. "I would think that if Mirian did not come and everyone's hopes were raised that there would be a great disappointment among our people. That wouldn't be good at all, now would it?" Shari smiled at her children. "One day, when you have ruled a country, you'll understand the reasoning behind this," She laughed wryly at the distaste in her children's expressions when she told them that they would understand 'someday'.   
  
"Fine." Selena said, pouting slightly. "I won't tell anyone." She looked pointedly at Michel, "Will you?"   
  
Michel looked offended, "Why would I tell anyone? Mother just told us not to!"   
  
"Not even Petra?" Selena asked suspiciously.   
  
"Not even Petra," Michel declared to her solemnly.   
  
Satisfied, Selena sat back, leaning against her mother, who was laughing. "Why are you laughing?" Selena demanded childishly.   
  
"You two," Shari chuckled, "Can be like the worst old women in the square haggling for a goose on the market."   
  
"Oh," Selena said, brightening. "Well, I'll be in my solar if you need me." She smiled, not taking any offense at her mother's analogy, and running off to her private rooms to rejoice.   
  
"Well, mother, should I go too?" Michel stood, stretching.   
  
"If you wish." Shari shook her head fondly, knowing her son would do whatever he pleased at this moment of elation.   
  
"I'll be…somewhere," He said with a grin, and trotted out of her rooms. Shari watched him go, and then rang for her dinner.   
  
--  
  
Garrod galloped through the forest, aware of Dagger's exhilaration. He whipped the reins across the stallion's flank, urging him onward. He wanted to be back at the Castle before night was truly come.   
  
"Get up, Dagger, that's m'boy." Garrod burst through the last copse of pine trees and into the clear field that bordered the Castle itself. Dagger bugled loudly and raced faster still, his great strides easily gaining ground. Garrod was crouched over the stallion's neck, the black mane whipping his face, and feeling the wind rush through his own hair.   
  
As the pair neared the edge of the open expanse, Garrod slowed the pace to a rapid trot, calming Dagger down, bit by bit.   
  
"Ho! Garrod!" Garrod smiled and settled Dagger into a walk. The horse hung his head, acting the exhausted horse.   
  
"Thayer." Garrod never stopped walking even as Thayer reached them.   
  
"What is the news, friend?" Thayer rested a hand on Dagger's shoulder. "You worked him, didn't you?" He asked with a whistle.   
  
"Yes, we ran most of the way." Thayer rolled his eyes at his companion's idea of fun. "The wedding will be held and the time of no-moon. The boy said at Lamar-Kith. Will we be going?"   
  
Thayer's brow was furrowed in thought. "I don't know. It depends on how she acts, I think."   
  
Garrod laughed, "You are disciplining her?"   
  
"She needs it, it seems." Thayer smirked at his friend, "You've heard her complaining."  
  
A walk around the stable saw Garrod dismounted and Dagger untacked. Garrod cooled him down by hand as he and Thayer continued talking.   
  
"You know, I would worry about taking her to the wedding," Thayer said thoughtfully. "Someone might try to take her back."   
  
"True, but what are the chances of them succeeding?" Garrod countered.   
  
"Slim yes, but I don't want to cause a scene. Under the usual circumstances, I wouldn't mind, but since this is a wedding, and a royal one at that, I would like to remain as discreet as possible." Thayer sighed, not sure what to do.   
  
"It would be nice for the guest and probably for the girl's sake as well to not make a fuss," Garrod mused. "They might get us thrown out, and not just out of the wedding." His words contained an ominous note.   
  
"My fear exactly." Thayer scuffed his foot on the ground. "If the most powerful country on Rhynne will not accept our aid or seek us out for mercenary business, than which of the remaining three will?"   
  
"Syrlan might, since Syrlan is known to be at odds with Lamar now. Of course, we don't really know how long that will last, and besides, can Syrlan afford it?" Garrod pointed out.   
  
"Oh they can afford it alright," Thayer said in a wry tone of voice. "The next thing is will there pride let them hire mercenaries to do the work for them?"   
  
Garrod thought for a moment. "Well, if Prince Corbin came to you before, and asked for your help, then obviously, their pride does allow them to."   
  
"Corbin," Thayer said in a measured tone, "Is not a typical Syrlandan. He is of the noble class, and he only wants the money that comes from winning the war."   
  
"Are you sure?" Garrod asked, a surprised not in his voice. "He didn't seem all that bad to me?"   
  
Thayer laughed derisively, "You were not many of the times that he was arguing with me. He is quite the insolent little brat at times, but I must give him credit that he does have some idea of how to rule a country."   
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes, he has a good head on his shoulders at times. I believe that he will be a great battle commander." Thayer shivered and patted Dagger. Then, lightly, he said, "Let's go inside and discuss this further. I'm sure Dagger wouldn't say no to a hot mash, either."   
  
Garrod grinned and led the black stallion to his stall humming a tuneless tune.   
  
--  
  
As soon as Thayer stepped inside the doorway, Mirian pounced. "Am I to go to Selena's wedding?" She demanded to know.   
  
"It depends," Thayer said, enjoying greatly the array of emotion that flitted across her face.   
  
"On what?" She asked, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "She's my sister for Sky's sake! I have to go to her wedding!" Mirian glared at him, her hands planted stubbornly on her hips.   
  
"It depends," Thayer said, drawing out the words, "On your good behavior, or lack thereof."   
  
"You," She said, walking up to him and shaking her finger in his face, "You," she said again, still pointing at him. "You are the most…despicable man I have ever met in my whole entire life!" She finally whacked him on the nose with the finger and he flinched.   
  
"That's one count against going," he said calmly.   
  
Mirian screamed in vexation, storming back and forth across the small entryway.   
  
"You have until three days before no-moon to prove to me that you are worthy of going." Thayer stood; stoically ignoring the muttered curses and dark glances she threw his way.   
  
"Selena is my sister, and I deserve to go to her wedding, whether you think I am worthy or not!" Mirian walked back over to him, glowering. "I think-"  
  
Thayer cut her off with a sweep of his hand. "I thought you knew by now, I don't care what you think."   
  
Mirian stopped her tirade, mouth hanging open. She stuttered for a moment, and then regained her composure. "Fine." She caught sight of Garrod standing in the doorway, laughing quietly. "I'll leave you to your lover," she said spitefully as a parting remark.   
  
"Oh, that was low," Lohen said from his place by the doorway.   
  
Mirian, enraged that all three of the men were laughing at her, kicked Lohen in the shins with the tip of her pointed shoe. "Bastard," she muttered as she walked away uttering oaths and insults in any language she could think of.   
  
"That's at least five against you." Thayer called to her as she stalked away.   
  
Mirian turned around and stared at him, and said, "So now it's a threesome, is it?" She continued on her way, not looking back again.   
  
Lohen glanced at Thayer, whose eyes were wide with the range of insults she had picked from. Then, his eyes went to Garrod, who had sunk to the floor, wheezing heavily from his laughter. "So," he said, suggestively wiggling his hips. "You want to make it a threesome?"   
  
"I'm sorry, my dearest, but I have a new love," Thayer said tragically, motioning to Garrod.   
  
Garrod would have said something, but he was to busy laughing to be of any use to anyone.   
  
"She does have spunk, I'll admit," Lohen said, dropping the romantic pretext.   
  
"Oh, and plenty to spare, I think," Thayer said dryly.   
  
Garrod, again, would have added a comment, but was still to absorbed in trying to end the fits of laughter that over took him.   
  
"Should we let her go?" Thayer asked.   
  
"Let's wait and see what she does tomorrow. If we have to ride at least three days ahead of time, and it's only just past this no-moon, then I think we wait till tomorrow." Lohen yawned loudly. "For now, though, I think I'll go to bed."   
  
"Good idea. Can I come with you?" Thayer sidled over to Lohen and sluing an arm around his shoulder. "You know how lonely I get at night."  
  
"Drop it already," Lohen said good-naturedly. "Anyways, I'm too tired for it tonight. Maybe tomorrow." This sent Garrod into a fit of laughter again, and so, that was where Lohen and Thayer left as they went to their rooms to sleep.   
  
--  
  
Mirian lay in her bed, unable to sleep. She sat up and brushed her hair again, wishing with every stroke that she could go to Selena's wedding. Her dark hair lay heavily on her shoulders and she sighed, hoping that she might finally be able to go to sleep. She stretched and arranged the blankets over her once more, only to find that she was no more tired than before.   
  
"Oh, Sky this is not good. I want to go to sleep!" She mumbled to herself. Her eyes turned to the window, and the moon caught her gaze.   
  
It was barely more than a tiny sliver of light that pierced the veil of night. She sighed and decided that if she were to do something in the dead of night, he might as well stare at the moon.   
  
Her eyelids started to drop, and she nestled her head onto her crossed arms. The edge of the windowsill dug into the flesh of her arms, but she paid no mind to it. All she watched was the moon and thought of how many more night it would be until she was on her way to see Selena at the wedding.   
  
As she dropped off to sleep, she smiled, knowing that she would see Selena no matter what.   
  
---  
  
-A/N- Argh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So sorry for not updating sooner! I hope an extra long chapter helps make up for that! :oD If anyone is wondering, no, the mercenaries are not gay. I have plans for them, romantically. (At least, I think i do...) Well, please review, i give you fair warning though, any rotten fruit or other projectiles thrown at the author will be used for torture purposes, although not on anyone who reviews of course...O:o) Anyway...thank you for putting up with me!   
  
MapleRose- i don't know yet how Fiacha fits into all this...i just that she's in there somehow...  
  
ac_bworm-thank you for telling me which one you like, even though titles aren't always that important...:o)  
  
Ko-Shani- The update may have taken a while, but here it is! I bet there will more questions after this...haha...  
  
Happy Holidays!!   
  
EvenSong 


	12. Freeeeeedommm

::looking v. guilty:: Please, forgive me for not updating sooner. My muses took a lengthy winter vacation, and have just recently returned! But, anyway, two chapters for you! Yay!!!  
  
---  
  
12.  
  
Thayer stood in the doorframe of Mirian's room. He saw her silhouetted against the light from the window and chuckled. She would be sore when she woke up.   
  
She must have heard his chuckle, for she stirred and groaned softly. Her dark head rose from her arms and she stretched. Thayer watched her, wondering how she could seem so innocent one moment and then call him such vile names the next.   
  
He shrugged and disappeared before she could see him watching her. His boots thumped softly on the stone floor as he jogged down the stairs.   
  
"Breakfast is here!" He heard Lohen call. "Fresh caught yesterday too!"   
  
"Good," grumbled Thayer, "I'm starving."   
  
"You always are," Garrod replied from his place bending over the fire.   
  
"Shut up. Give me food." Thayer walked in the doorway, inhaling the aroma of the meat roasting over the fire. "Smells good."   
  
"Thank you," Lohen said proudly. "It was a nasty little bugger to catch, but I got him."   
  
"What was it?" Garrod asked with curiosity.   
  
"A rabbit. Flushed him almost as soon as I stepped into the pines." Lohen grinned. "He was one fast little guy, but not fast enough to escape my arrows!"   
  
"Stop boasting about it. We know. You've been here longer than we have, so you know all the spots of good game."   
  
"Hey, you've both been here long enough to have at least an inkling of where the best hunting is." Lohen grinned and continued the making of breakfast.   
  
"Ah, he's right. Might as well just live with it." Garrod turned the meat and chuckled as he listened to Thayer grumbling.   
  
"I still think we should gag him and make him listen to himself." Thayer growled, not in the mood yet for any of the jokes.   
  
"Oh, but I do!" Lohen exclaimed. "I love to listen to myself!" He smiled and laughed loudly, enjoying the weak joke with Garrod. "Turn the meat, Gar, you'll burn it," He pointed out as Garrod slacked.   
  
"Right."   
  
"What's for breakfast?" None of the Three had heard Mirian's arrival through the laughter. She stretched and yawned. "Do we have breakfast?" She asked when her original question elicited no response.   
  
"Why, yes, Princess we do," Lohen said smoothly, the first to recover from the shock that she had snuck up on them.   
  
"Well," she tapped her foot impatiently, "What is it?"   
  
"If it caters to your palate, we have a fresh caught bunny, from yesterday of course; completely drained of all excess fluids and devoid of any fur and headless as well. Or, if you prefer, we also have a lovely porridge left over from what was not eaten yesterday, seasoned with cinnamon and other such rarities." Lohen stopped and bowed. "Does that sound appetizing to you milady?"   
  
Mirian shook her head. "Not really. I was hoping more for toast this morning and a good cup of tea. Of course, being the heathens you are, you wouldn't have any tea, so I will just have to settle for your mean fare whether I like it or not, won't I?" Mirian smiled brightly, innocently.   
  
Thayer stared at his fingernails. "Well, that's another reason why you won't be going to your sister's wedding." He smiled as her scream of rage echoed around the room.   
  
"You know, I should just run away!" She screamed at him.   
  
"Try. You won't get far," Thayer replied breezily.   
  
"Damn you!" Mirian retorted furiously, for lack of something better to say.   
  
"Porridge? Or bunny?" Lohen walked up to her, holding out a plate of brown goop.   
  
"No thank you," Mirian said, turning on her heel and walking back up the stairs.   
  
"Suit yourself," Lohen murmured darkly. He set the plate down in front of Thayer, who ate it hungrily.   
  
"Finally, Lohen, you have made something completely tasteless!" Thayer joked before settling down to the real meal.   
  
Mirian stormed up the stairs, muttering darkly about not being treated like a princess. By the time she reached her room, she was in a full-fledged argument with herself.   
  
"I really should leave! I mean, really, if they aren't treating me like a proper princess, then I have a right to leave, right? Of course I do!" She replied to herself, throwing her hands up in the air. "But, then again, if I run away I'm not being dignified as a Princess should be. I really should strive to be a proper Princess too, it would make Papa so proud!" Mirian continued to storm about her small room in an entirely un-princess-like manner. "Ah, but Papa always told me to be myself and right now…" She trailed off, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, thinking hard. "I think I'll run away."   
  
Mirian smiled and picked a few of the shabbier dresses out of a chest. She smiled and hummed as she planed her escape, happily murmuring to herself about the fine things that she would do when she got back to civilization.   
  
By the time she was ready to depart with the clothing she would need in a little sack, and some books nestled in with the dresses, she was in a fine mood. Quite happily, she walked out of her room, prepared for great adventure.   
  
"Just where do you think you're going, eh?" Thayer stood in the doorway, leaning lazily against a wall.   
  
"Home." Mirian said with a whimsical toss of her hair. "I'm going home, and there's nothing you can do to stop me!" She grinned and tried to saunter past him.   
  
One large hand caught her delicate wrist. "And how were you planning on getting there, Princess?"   
  
Mirian paused, and frowned. "I'd…ride?" Her words took on a questioning tone.   
  
"Not if I have anything to do about it," Thayer said with a grim smile. "Come now, do you really want to run away?"   
  
"Yes." Mirian wrenched her wrist out of Thayer's grasp and crossed her arms stubbornly.   
  
"Do you know how to survive in the wild? Do you know how to make a fire, fend off the wild animals, or track?" He asked in quick succession.   
  
"Well," She faltered, looking down at the ground, "No."   
  
"I see. And how exactly were you planning on going home without these skills?" Thayer crossed his arms and mirrored her stubborn expression.   
  
Mirian glared at him, but said nothing.   
  
"Well, in that case," Thayer pushed himself off the wall, "I better help you take those things back to your room." He grinned and took her bags from her hands. Without further ado, he sauntered past her and up the stairs. "Come on, my dear Princess!" He called over his shoulder.  
  
Mirian, fuming, followed him in angry silence.   
  
Later that night, Mirian, never one to be dissuaded easily, climbed down her bed sheets and out of her window with her newly packed bags filled with more food, less clothing and book that she had found in the library on the wilderness.   
  
"He never suspected anything," Mirian muttered triumphantly. "He thought that I was just going to read about little princesses being rescued by handsome princes. Hah!" She landed on the ground with a thump and slipped through the shadows to the stable.   
  
"Here, Mouse, here I am," She crooned to the mare. The horse snorted sleepily in response. "That's a good girl." Mirian stared at the tack, puzzled about its use. "I wonder what I do with this?" She glared at it, as if hoping that it would tell her.   
  
"Oh well," she sighed, after long minutes of glaring at the leather produced no results. She scratched Mouse on the nose absently, not truly noticing the rough woven halter that the mare had on.   
  
"Well, um, why don't we put this blanket on you, and I'll sit on that…" Mirian settled a blanket onto the brown back and shrugged. Suddenly, inspiration hit her, "You have a-a- thing on!" She exclaimed, running her hands over the coarse halter.   
  
Quickly, she found two sturdy lengths of rope and knotted them onto the side of the halter. Proudly, she stepped back and admired her handiwork. "That should do it!" She smiled and patted the mare on the shoulder. "Now, to get on…" She looked around for something that she could stand on, and grinned when she saw the ladder that was used to get up to the loft. "I think that that should work…"   
  
Soon, after a few attempts that landed on the ground, Mirian sat astride Mouse, her bag balanced carefully in her lap. "Let's go," she murmured to the mare, and they set off together into the night.   
  
---  
  
-A/N- My excuse: I have been very busy with Odyssey of the Mind. We had to solve this problem -Featured Creature- and that was taking up a lot of my time. I wrote a skit, revised it...revised it again and again...then on Saturday (March 20) We finally performed. So, now i have *loads* of free time. The pathetic part was that we got fifth out of five on our long term problem...and all that hard work. Soooo glad that it's over now! Yay!   
  
But anyway...   
  
Hailly- I get confused too. The alliances work like this: There are 3 out of four countries in a alliance. These are Lamar, Tarran and Wythin. Syrlan, the Renegade Kingdom is all by its lonesome. Wythin, not being very productive over the past couple of years, kind of fell out of the alliance, but they're working their way back in. Yeah...i hope that unconfuses stuff a bit. :-)  
  
Please review! I know my updates are rather few and far between, but i still want reviews...::grins:: anyone who reviews gets a cookie! hehheh  
  
EvenSong 


	13. Fiacha

Another chapter...:o)  
  
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13.   
  
I presented myself to Thayer the night that the girl ran away from him. I wanted to give her a chance to escape- Thayer would have a fun time finding her come morning light.   
  
I materialized in his room, and sat waiting for him on his bed until he walked in.   
  
"What are you doing here?" He asked me tersely, shifting into a defensive stance.   
  
"I am here to talk to you of course!" I smiled at him and got up off the bed, letting my fingers trail through the sheets. "And who wouldn't want to talk to you?"   
  
"What do you want now?" His eyes flicked to where his sword was leaning against the wall.   
  
"What I have always desired," I looked up at from beneath my eyelashes, letting my tongue play over my lips. "I want you."   
  
He sucked in a breath and stiffened. "You never wanted me." He stepped carefully away from me.   
  
"Oh, but I did, Thayer. You just never responded in the way that I wanted you to." I walked around him, looking askance at him.   
  
"Stop it, Fiacha." He struck out, faster than I could see, and raised his sword at me.   
  
"Oh, you wouldn't want to be doing that, Thayer." I smiled, knowing how much he wanted know why.   
  
"Why?" The question burst from his lips. I sat back on his bed and smiled wider.   
  
"Because, should you kill me, the only thing stopping my hounds from killing your Princess will be their own will. You know what? Their will is to eat and be sated. Do you know where they are right now?" I leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. "They're following her through the forest. They're biting at the heels of her horse, tormenting her and begging me to let them feast."   
  
The blood drained out of his face with each description that I gave him. His sword tip wavered as if it had grown too heavy for his arm to hold up.   
  
"Are you worried about her?" I asked him coyly, my eyes going wide with feigned innocence.   
  
"Oh, Sky." His words came out strangled. I giggled.   
  
"You want to stay here with me, though, don't you?" I pouted, watching the indecision flit across his face.   
  
"No."   
  
"Fine." I blew him a kiss and materialized back in my chambers. "Gullible fool," I muttered happily. I told the hounds to bother the girl and the horse more, but not to harm too seriously.   
  
"I wonder if he'll find the girl in one piece." I murmured in satisfied rumination. Then I went back to plotting his death in the most prolonged and painful way possible.   
  
---  
  
-A/N- Hey, look! Another one of those weird first-person chapters...i enjoy writing these, strangely enough. hm.   
  
by the way, would anyone like to donate some reviews?   
  
EvenSong 


	14. The Hounds

:cheers: Yay! An update!

-

**14.**

Thayer cursed himself, Her and the Princess. He didn't bother to consider why he was going to rescue the stupid girl as he dashed down the stairs and out to the stable.

He quickly brushed his stallion and checked the horse's hooves for any stones. Then, he saddled and bridled the horse in record time, jamming his sword into the saddle sheath.

"Get on," He smacked the horse with his reins, picking out the hoof prints that the Princess's mare had left in the ground and following them.

He could feel the hoof beats thudding through him with each stride that the horse took. He tracked with the skill that came only with years of practice and familiarity of the surrounding area, following a trail that was almost invisible.

The stallion shied violently as the baying of a hound filled the night air. Thayer shivered and calmed the horse, at the same time pinpointing the cry.

He kicked the horse in the direction of the howl, crashing through the forest.

Another howl, closer this time, and the horse reared, frightened by the imminent danger.

"Easy, brother, easy." Thayer calmed the horse again and wondered how many hounds there were in all.

The howls were soon coming from a distinct circle in front of him, and his mount was almost useless, so paralyzed as it was by fear. Thayer grabbed his crossbow, the familiar wood solid in his grasp.

He drew the bow, and sent the bolt soaring into the shadows. A furious growl made him smile in satisfaction.

More bolts flew from his hands, delving into soft fur and muscle with many shots. Sometimes the hollow sound of wood answered the whistle of the bolt, and Thayer would grimace, picking out a new target with a ruthlessness that wouldn't give up.

The stallion continued to dance beneath him, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Sweat drenched the animal's hide, and steam rose off of him, spiraling into the night air.

A sudden, feminine scream made him whirl around. "Mirian!" He bellowed, and his voice carried above the noises made by Her hunting pack. "Princess!" He yelled, and then was distracted by another of the dogs.

Mirian pressed into the tree, feeling the rough bark biting into her back. "Get away from me!" She cried, tears streaming down her face. She kicked out at one of three dogs that were closing in on her.

Her foot connected with a nose and the hound whined and leapt away. Two more closed in on her, baring teeth that were slick with saliva. She screamed again as her tormentors set in again to lunge at her, nipping her every time they got close enough.

"Mirian!" The cry echoed through the woods, and she looked up, terror in her eyes. "Princess!"

"Thayer!" Mirian screamed as loudly as she could. "Thayer!"

A canine growl snapped her attention back to the problem at hand. Mirian whimpered in fear, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh Sky, save me. Oh Sky oh Sky ohskyohsky…" Her words became a mumbled litany that she repeated over and over again as she methodically repelled the dogs, attack after attack. Mirian wasn't sure if she believed in the god that had not saved her father and that let her be brought here, but it was reassuring to plead with someone for help. Anyone…

The pack could smell her fear. They could practically taste it in the air. It made them hungrier, and they fought harder for the kill. The blood they swallowed every time they cut her only augmented their frenzied bloodlust.

The pack's divided mind concentrated easily on both the man on horseback and on the girl. Must eat, their collective consciousness cried. Kill them, kill them all.

Their sensitive ears perked as the girl's screams grew more ragged at the same time the horse's frantic whinnying did. They derived their pleasure from this; their hunt was drawing to a close.

They noticed, as the pack's mind grew smaller, that there were things missing; senses were suddenly cut off and they were limited to less than they were used to.

Slowly, the pack began to associate the man with this loss of sensitivity and retreated slowly. They slunk away into the shadows, going to their pack mates and helping with the hunt that they were having.

Kill, they thought, as one. Kill.

Thayer made his way through the woods, following the baying of the hounds and Mirian's frantic screams. The stallion snorted and pranced beneath him, terrified by the blood and the hounds. "Hush," Thayer crooned. "Hush." The animal's muscles surged beneath him like a roiling sea of anxiety. Equine tension filled the air, eager to be set free, to run away from the death and the blood.

Another scream rent the air, and Thayer looked sharply to where it had originated from.

"That way," he muttered, inwardly cursing the girl and her stupidity. His horse picked his way through the bracken, shying at the merest flap of a leaf. He was on edge, and that set his mount on edge. "Easy, easy…"

They whirled around a tree as the screams and baying grew to a frenzied pitch. "Mirian!" Thayer bellowed over the human and horse screams, and the snarls of the angry dogs.

He bit into the pack, mercilessly hacking at them with his sword and bringing them down one by one. Sprays of blood and muscle flew up as he thrust at them, again and again and again. He lost sight of Mirian in the seething mass of furry bodies, only to hear her screech once more. Thayer fought his way to her, furiously cutting through bone and sinew to get to his Princess.

Mirian was not hers. She could not have his Princess. His!

"Mirian!" Thayer called out to her, and heard a gasping sob in response.

"Thayer!" Mirian waxed incomprehensible again, and then managed a few moments of coherence. "Help me! Ohsky, oh gods, they've got me…" And then her petrified shrieks filled the air.

Thayer battled onward, shouting his own rage as the hounds struck back, biting into his flesh. He heard the cracks and shrill whinnies of the stallion holding his own, just as he was trained to do.

A jaw closed around his wrist. He brought the hilt of his sword down with a heavy hand onto a hard head. A yelp followed shortly by silence told him that his hit had been successful; one less enemy to dispatch.

He fought for what seemed like an eternity, hacking and slashing, maiming and murdering. He continued until there was nothing left to fight except the continued lust for blood. He was the best, he was Kalid-Na'in. He could not lose.

He didn't lose. He had won. Thayer jerked slightly to the side to look at Mirian, and found her watching him, fear in her eyes.

"Ohsky…" He groaned and pitched forward.

"Thayer?" Mirian poked him cautiously with a branch, eyeing the carcasses that were scattered around him. "Are you awake?"

Thayer moaned softly, but otherwise demonstrated no signs of consciousness.

"No." Mirian took a shuddering breath and wiped her eyes. Her hand came away colored with a mix of blood, dirt and tears. "Thank you," she murmured, glancing over at the mercenary.

She got up slowly, not trusting her legs to hold her. Her hands shook where she clutched the tree, using it to pull herself up. The bark dug into her palms, scraping against the tender skin.

"What do I do now?" She asked whoever might be listening. "I can't go anywhere…I can't just leave him here…" Mirian trailed off pensively, trying to come up with a solution to her dilemma.

A whicker from the stallion diverted her attention to Thayer's equine companion.

"Hello, pony." Mirian's hand trembled as she reached out to touch the horse's soft, sticky nose. "Are you hurt too?"

Thayer's stallion bobbed its head in a facsimile of an answer.

"That makes three of us, then." Mirian pushed the tangled, lank hair away from her face and sighed, waiting once more for the world to stop spinning. "Can you help me, pony?" She took a few, faltering steps and managed to grab a handful of dirty mane. "We've got to get him up there." One grimy hand patted the horse's sweaty back. "Think we can do that?"

It made her feel better to have someone to talk to, even if that someone was a horse. The horse huffed at her in response.

Thayer mumbled something unintelligible into the dirt, and Mirian turned in an unsteady whirl of dizziness.

"What?" She collapsed onto the gory leaves by the swordsman.

"Tell him…" Thayer coughed loudly, interrupting himself. "Down. Then up. Then…" Thayer coughed again, and it sounded like he was attempting to remove his lungs through his throat. "Then follow." He fell face forward into the leaf mold, raising a little pfft of sound as he landed.

Mirian turned away from him, confused but open minded. "Down," she commanded as imperiously as she could.

The stallion folded his long legs beneath him and slowly lowered himself to the ground.

"Right." She looked at the large man lying on the ground. Determinedly, she picked up his foot and pulled. Nothing moved. She pulled again, harder, fixed on succeeding.

Finally, she managed to get Thayer draped over his mount. With a hand placed on his back to steady him, she commanded "Up."

The horse lurched to his feet, nearly dislodging Thayer. "No!" Mirian pushed the heavy mercenary up with the horse, making sure he was steady before grabbing the reins that dangled from the bit. "Follow," she told the horse.

It followed, plodding along behind her. They trudged through the forest, Mirian stopping to adjust Thayer whenever he looked as if he would fall.

As then rose up out of the clouds, a bloody red light cascading over them, Mirian, Thayer and the stallion were found, utterly exhausted, in the court yard by the stable. Lohen rushed out, dropping his porridge on the floor, with Garrod quickly following after. They took charge of Thayer and the horse, sending Mirian off to sleep and bathe.

Mirian watched them tiredly, her mind moving at a different speed from the world around her. She stumbled through the door and up the stairs, falling into her bed without another thought. Within moments, she was unconscious, her mind busy at work to try and digest the events of the night.

Unaware of the world, she slept.

**Author's Note:** This chapter has been far too long in the writing! It took me over a year! Gah! Thank you so much to all the people who reviewed! You guys are absolutely fantastic for putting up with me. This wasn't the best writing that I've ever done, but hey, it's still something.

Of course, now I'm traveling almost the whole month of July…so it's not like I can really update a lot. Although I might be able to bring my laptop with me to some places, I don't know if I will have any internet access…We shall have to see.

Once again, all the people who have waited forever and a day to read this are simply amazing. Thank you!

**To Those Amazatory People:**

Chrischelle: Thanks for all the nice comments! I obviously didn't update soon…but can you forgive me:o)

Vixonl: Thank you!

Shards of Dawn: Thank you so much! I didn't update very soon though… . 

AuraRayne: Thanks!

Zagato: I'm not entirely sure what Fiacha is…but we shall most definitely find out eventually!

Aureusangel: Fiacha is just kind of weird…I'm still working out what I want her to be. I'm glad you like this!

Glaze: There! I continued it!

Sheyana: As for your questions…the answers will be found in later chapters! (I'll try not to take so long to update, either.)

Athena Diagon Cat: Fiacha is definitely not good. Definitely.

Nubilius: Yay! You like this! For points of confusion: 1. Thayer going from mean to nice? I guess he's just that way around girls, or the passage of time has made him soft…or at least softer. 2. Johan, Risa and Petra are just kind of there now. I know I had some big plan for them, but I can't remember it now. I'll probably just use them as extra points of view, and other than that, they aren't really important. 3. As for the flow of the fic…it keeps giving me writer's block, so I stop and start over and over, and I seem to lose the feel for a scene once I've stopped. I hope the clears things up a bit! I am completely in awe of your fic. It's entirely awesome!

Rainkisser: Well, I updated! I'll definitely need you to help me remember to update…and since there's ten? Eleven chapters? That you haven't reviewed yet…haha.

Sara: Thank you for the e-mail you sent me! It made me really remember about this and that I really should update…so, thanks for that!


	15. Practical Applications

Warnings: A change of style in the middle, methinks.

I must apologize right now for the lateness of this, so, sorry, sorry, sorry! This chapter came about in part because of Rachel, who emailed me and reminded me that it existed. I hope you enjoy it!

**15.**

"Dear_sky_," Thayer groaned as he woke. "Why do I hurt?"

Lohen smirked. "Why, Mr. Hero, don't you remember? You fought off those dogs to save the damsel in distress."

"That happened?" Thayer rubbed his head cautiously, wondering how many new cuts he would find. "I can't believe it."

"Believe it, my friend," Lohen said, his grin fading. "You've been out for three days now. That girl of yours has been in here taking care of you, not that we couldn't, of course, but she felt that it was her duty. You did save her after all."

"So I did," he mused pensively. "So I did."

Garrod spoke up, "It's not often we do that, hey?"

Lohen gave a hollow chuckle. "Indeed. It seems so often that we are the ones who create the reasons for someone needing rescue." His mouth quirked into a wry smile. "We are the Kalid-Na'in, after all."

Thayer glanced up at his friend. "It sounds like you're getting soft, Lohengrin!"

Garrod snorted derisively before saying, "If anyone's getting soft, it's you, Mr. Hero. You're the one who's running off and saving ladies, after all."

Thayer tried to lunge across the room and tackle his comrade, but his muscles screamed in agony. He yelped in a pained echo of them. "So how badly was I hurt, before you stitched me up?"

"Oh, there was blood everywhere, you know the deal," Lohen waved a hand in exaggerated indifference. "I think the only problem was that most of it was yours and not someone else's."

Garrod suddenly joined the tale, "Half dead you were, and the girl with you. She was barely on her feet when you both came into the courtyard. It was amazing that she was on her feet at all, really."

Thayer groaned again. "I feel so incompetent now…if a mere girl- a cosseted princess, at that- managed to be on her feet longer than I was, what does that make me?"

"Old, for one," Lohen pointed out flippantly.

"Thank you for your unending support of me and my ego, Lohen." Thayer grinned suddenly, "What's for breakfast?"

"Lunch, you mean?" Garrod pointed out quickly. "I've got some right here," he said, reaching around to a wrapped loaf of bread. "Have some bread. It's good for you."

"Great. Food." Thayer attacked it hungrily, eschewing good manners entirely. Bread crumbs soon littered the rumpled sheets around him, hiding in the dark folds and collecting in random depressions.

"Slow down," Lohen cautioned, an indescribable expression lighting his face. It was an odd hybrid between worry and amusement, and Thayer snorted, spewing parts of his lunch messily across the room.

"You know, I just cleaned that."

All three mercenaries practically choked when Mirian spoke.

"Your highness!" Lohen exclaimed as soon as he recovered, sweeping into a deep bow. "We did not hear you arrive."

Mirian chuckled dryly. "Obviously." She rolled her eyes with the perfect amount of princessly disdain. "Lohengrin's right, though, you shouldn't eat too fast. It could make you sick."

Thayer finally managed to swallow the lump that had lodged in his throat. "Yes mother," he replied meekly. "Whatever you say."

A smile of satisfaction danced momentarily across Mirian's lips. "Small bites. Manners. You have them, use them."

"No, he doesn't…" Garrod muttered laughingly.

"Hush." She scolded mildly.

Over the past three harrowing days, Mirian had found herself growing more comfortable within the fraternity of mercenaries. She could talk to them without feeling as if they pitied her, and they could talk to her and not feel utterly despised. The relationship that had developed as they struggled side by side to keep Thayer alive and healthy was a strong one and a familiar one, and Mirian enjoyed it greatly.

A wry smile arced over her lips. "Do you think you'll be well enough to go to the wedding? Or shall you stay in bed a little while more?"

Thayer frowned. "Wedding?"

"My sister's." The warm air of camaraderie quickly dissipated. "I'm not going to miss it."

Lohen tentatively touched Mirian's sleeve. "Must you talk about this now?"

"Or what?" She glared at him. "Or miss the entire thing? This is the most important day in Selena's life, and I will be there." She stamped a delicate foot. "I will go on my own if I have to."

"Because that worked out so well the last time," Thayer drawled, watching her through half closed eyes. "I think it went particularly well. My favorite part was the pack of dogs trying to rend you piece from piece." He smirked. "What was yours?"

"Then take me," Mirian retorted. "Be my gallant protectors, my knights in shining armor."

Garrod glanced from princess to warrior and back again. "Mirian, Princess, Thayer won't be well enough to go anywhere in time for the wedding. He can't ride with you, d'you see?"

"Then someone else can take me."

Lohen and Garrod looked at each other. Lohen sighed. "I'll take Princess Mirian. We'll not be gone too long." He paused to think, and the ensuing silence dragged on without end. "It shouldn't take us more than two weeks."

"Two weeks!"

Lohen nodded. "A week for the wedding itself, and another week for traveling."

"But I'll hardly see anyone at all!"

"Two weeks." Thayer fixed his intense eyes on Mirian. "No more, no less."

"Fine." Mirian pursed her lips. "Two weeks then. Two weeks away from you."

**Author's Note: **After an indecently long hiatus, I return. This chapter was one of the most painful things I have ever written, I think. I had to reacquaint myself with all these characters and plotlines! I'm still not sure what I had planned for this, but I'm sure it will all work out in the end…right? Yep! I really do apologize for just dropping off in the middle of the story, but I think we're up and running again. It's going to be a little funny for a few chapters; my writing style has changed since I last worked on this, and I'm still not sure of my characters.

The next chapter, I promise, is longer, and there will hopefully be no years-long wait before it is written!

Please, as always, review and tell me what you think- what can I improve, what would you like to see, what failed miserably, what did you like? Thanks so much…your input will help me get going again.

Love, as always, EvenSong


	16. Family Reunions

**16.**

"Michel!" Mirian was off the horse and on the ground faster than Lohen believed possible. "I'm so glad to see you!" Flinging herself at her brother, she clung so tight that he wasn't certain she was planning on letting go.

"It's good to see you too," He mumbled into her shoulder. "You're just in time, too. The seamstresses were starting to despair!"

Mirian laughed lightly. "Well, I'm here now, and I won't be leaving." She shot a mildly irritated look towards Lohen as he stifled a laugh. "You can't make me."

Lohen nodded affably. "You'd be surprised what I can make you do." He smiled. "Two weeks, remember? One of which is already half gone."

"Two weeks?" Michel herded his sister away from the Kalid-Na'in. "That's all?"

"I know! I wanted more, but Thayer refused. He's not even here! I don't see why I shouldn't stay longer." Her lips curled into a mischievous smile. "Perhaps we can work out a way to see that I do!"

"I wouldn't count on it, Princess," Lohen called from across the courtyard. He had their two mounts by the reins, but had paused long enough to try to shatter her vain hopes.

Mirian glared once more and then turned to her brother. "Why don't you show me around?" She slipped her hand through her brother's arm and clung to him, turning her back entirely on Lohen. "I've never been to Lamar-Kith before, and you've been here for days, haven't you?" She babbled on, until they were out of earshot of her warrior-escort.

"Mirian." Michel interrupted her inane comments, concern in his every movement. "How are you? Really, I mean. Tell me everything."

She sighed, her dark brows diving inwards as she frowned. "It's fine, I suppose. I've not been tortured, if that's what you're asking." Her steps faltered for a moment, as if she would stop and pull him into one of the many alcoves that lined the walls, but then changed her mind. "They've a library, and I may do essentially whatever I please, but it gets so lonely. Books don't talk back and it's only those three there." A smile ghosted across her lips. "Except for sometimes, Prince Corbin is there."

Michel frowned. "Corbin? Of Syrlan?"

"Yes." She bit her lip to hide another smile. "He's nothing but a gentleman to me."

"But he's from Syrlan."

"I know." Her face fell. "But he's the only one who really knows what it's like to deal with the Kalid-Na'in." Mirian sighed. "He's just something new, Michel. Don't worry about it."

"I can't help but worry, sister-mine." He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it to stick up in a thousand different directions. "You're out there all alone with three warriors and no women in sight. What am I supposed to do but worry?"

"Save me." Mirian turned to him. "You could do something."

"Like what? These are the Kalid-Na'in, not just some random bandits who want a little monetary gratification. They are trained warriors, invincible by all accounts. What would you have me do?"

Mirian managed a bitter smile. "I don't know."

Selena, the youngest Princess of Wythin, stood in the guest suite of the greatest palace on the continent, watching her reflection in the mirror. "Does this color make her look sallow?" One of the seamstresses held up a scrap of yellow fabric.

"For the last time, you goose, it does! She cannot wear yellow! Besides, it wouldn't go." The older dressmaker harrumphed and left it at that.

The younger, however, did not. "But won't the yellow look nice with the red? I think it would." She held up the piece again, her blue eyes watery. "And it'd go with the blue, too!"

"Would you have the bride wear motley as well?" The grey-haired matron snorted. "She'd look the fool in more ways than one!"

Selena sighed. This was just not any fun. Though the dress had been made and fitted before she'd arrived, Princess Eleanora, Alejandro's sister, had sent up what were apparently two of the finest seamstresses in Lamar. Selena wasn't so sure.

"Just leave it as is, please." She brushed away the hands and rose, trying to be majestic. She worried that she was simply pompous. "You may go."

"But Princess!" The younger woman began to protest, but fingers quickly reached out and pinched her into silence.

Selena turned a blind eye. "Now, if you please." Her own serving maid looked up, questions in her eyes. "Not you, Adele, just these two."

Adele nodded and returned to her habitual state of half-waking. "Very well then, very well."

Even as the two strangers were leaving, Petra burst in through the door. "You'll never guess what I've just seen!" Tears were welling in her eyes. "I saw Michel, in the courtyard!" She flounced onto one of the cushions the decorated the floor.

"Michel?" Selena tried to be interested, but Petra had been going on about Michel for all of the weeks that they had been in Lamar-Kith. "What was he doing this time?" She sighed. Her brother could get into so much trouble.

At least, according to Petra, he could. "He was walking in the courtyard with a lady on his arm!" She sniffled as daintily as possible. "As soon as he gets to a foreign country, he gets a foreign lady to go with him!" A tear dripped down a porcelain cheek. "I'm in love with him and he knows it, and still, this!"

Selena frowned. Michel hadn't mentioned anything about a new interest. Whenever she had talked to him, which wasn't often enough, she realized, he had always mentioned Petra at least once. Usually more than once. "Petra," she mused, "Did you happen to see who this lady was?"

"No." Petra smoothed her wet face with the palms of her hands. "She was dark, I know that much. Not much more than a slip of a girl." Petra pouted prettily. "Unlike me; I'm just not good enough anymore, not compared to these Lamaran ladies." She twirled some of her skirt between her fingers.

"Petra, don't worry. I'm sure he's just doing it to be kind." Selena smiled. To think of Michel taking up with a Lamaran was ridiculous. He would never desert Petra, she was sure of that now.

"Kind doesn't entail lengthy embraces, now, does it?" Petra asked waspishly. "I certainly don't think so."

The princess frowned, an idea trying to wiggle its way into her thoughts. "What did you say she looked like again?"

"Dark, tiny. I don't know. I don't care!" The younger lady cried belligerently. "If he doesn't care about me, then I don't care about him!"

"Petra, hush. Unless I miss my guess, that wasn't a foreign lady. Come." Selena swept from the room in a few determined strides, leaving a stunned and confused Petra to follow.

Michel and Mirian walked in silence, Mirian's fingers pressing grooves into his arm. Mirian stared openly at the halls' decorations, admiring the fine tapestries and elegant paintings. She almost wanted to run her hands over them, but resisted the urge.

She had been too long away from civilized society, she decided.

Their feet padded quietly through the carpeted palace, carrying them towards their sister. "Do you think she'll be happy to see me?" Mirian asked in a small voice, finally breaking the silence.

"Of course!" Michel reached up and squeezed her hand. "We've all missed you, Mirian. Really."

She smiled softly. "I missed you too."

"There she is! The _other woman_." Petra snatched at Selena's elbow but missed. "That's who he's given me up for…" She trailed off. "Selena?"

Selena stared in shock. There was her brother, Michel, and the woman on his arm was none other than her sister. "Mirian!" Selena grabbed handfuls of her skirts and practically flew towards her siblings. "I've missed you so much! Oh, I'm so glad you're here! And silly Petra, silly, silly, Petra thought you were some other woman that Michel was courting, but no, no! You're my sister!" Selena wrapped her arms tightly around her sister and held on.

Mirian nodded and mumbled something, holding Selena just as tightly.

"Petra?" Michel reached to touch her arm, but she pulled away, refusing to meet his eyes. "What is it?"

"Nothing." The girl took a step backwards, putting even more distance in between herself and Michel. "I should go."

Michel let his hand drop. "But…"

"I'll see you tonight, yes?" Petra smiled wanly, meeting his gaze for one, quick heartbeat.

"Yes." Still confused, the prince watched his lady leave without saying a word.

"Michel, come here!" Mirian pulled her brother closer. "Be happy, for now." She drew him into her warm embrace, sandwiching him between his two sisters.

Selena nodded, her chin bumping his shoulder. "Yes, don't worry. She'll come around." She looked up at him with clear blue eyes. "Now come, we've got to get Mirian introduced to everyone!" Selena grinned, her cheerfulness breaking through the somber mood. "Andro will be so happy to meet you! Oh, and Eleanora will just be so jealous!"

"Eleanora? Andro?" Mirian laughed at her sister's enthusiasm. "Who are these people that have entered into your life?"

"Oh, well, Andro is Alejandro, Prince Alejandro, really and," Selena flushed prettily, "He's the whole reason I'm here." She giggled along with Mirian. "And Eleanora is his sister, soon to be my sister." Selena made a face and Mirian suppressed a smile.

"I don't think it's good etiquette to judge your new family quite so quickly, Selena!" Mirian chastised her playfully, tapping her lightly across the head. "You know, that might make a bad impression."

Michel grinned. "There's been nothing quick about it, Mir. Eleanora's ordered Selena's dress entirely refitted, just to make sure that we did it right. What do you make of that?"

"Oh." She shrugged. "But still, you could be a little more forgiving, I suppose."

Selena sighed. "I supposed. But she makes it so difficult."

"Indeed, she does," Michel commiserated. "But on to happier things!" He grabbed Mirian's hand and pulled her onwards. "We have so much to show you!"

"Oh, yes, I do want to see it. I want to see everything, right down to the dirt!" She laughed. "Well, maybe not the dirt, but most everything."

"Of course, sister dearest, we'll show you all of it." Selena laughed and skipped ahead, leaving her older siblings to walk slightly more sedately. "Come on, hurry up, there's lots to see!"

Mirian thought briefly of Lohengrin as she let her siblings pull her along on an impromptu tour, but quickly forgot all else but them. She was happy, with the people she loved most in the world, and nothing could go wrong on this day.

**Author's Note…**Hey look at that! I updated in a rather timely manner! How awesome. So this is pretty cool, right, two chapters in a row? I certainly think so. Anyway, please, review and give me some feedback and, as always, I will respond to every review I get, as long as you leave me some way to contact you (whether it be through the site's system or through just plain email.)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter:)


	17. Deal or No Deal?

**Warnings: **I'm not a big fan of family…

**17.**

Lohengrin, being practical, trailed Mirian at a discreet distance, keeping her in his sight at all times. It wasn't that he didn't trust the Lamarans, or even Mirian's family, but he thought it to be good form to be ever watchful. Who know what might jump out from around the next corner?

He watched Mirian laughing and smiling and looking happier than he had since he had known her. She was beautiful, in her own way; though she didn't have the golden charm of her younger sister, Mirian was like a shadow, teasing the sunlight throughout the day. Cautiously, he followed the small party, sidestepping the inhabitants of the castle and their odd looks.

"Excuse me, sir!" Lohen turned, mildly irritated, to the young boy who had just stopped him.

"Yes?" Lohen smiled half-heartedly, not happy to be detained while he was trying to trail Mirian. "Be quick, about it, why don't you."

"Sir Caltrian wishes to see you, now, if you please."

Lohen groaned inwardly; Caltrian Ashwar was not one of the people that he was pleased to know personally. In fact, Lohen wished fervently that he really didn't know the man. "If it pleases Caltrian, I suppose so."

"Thank you, sir, please follow, sir." The squire made a quick bow and then led Lohen in the opposite direction that Mirian was taking. Lohengrin sighed mightily; family obligations always seemed to call at the worst of times.

Thayer stood at the window, feeling the draft seductively caressing his face. Spring days were warm, but the nights were cool, echoing the harsh winter which had just passed. Idly, he wondered how Lohengrin was faring in the northerly Lamar, but didn't give it more than a passing thought.

"So, Prince Corbin, you are here once more to beg for my help." Thayer turned from the window, setting pensiveness aside in favor of direct frankness. "What have you to say this time?"

Corbin, Crown Prince of Syrlan, stood stiffly in front of Thayer. "I do not beg." His lips barely touched upon a smile. "I come to hire."

"I see." Thayer settled into a hard chair. "What have you to offer?"

"Remuneration, naturally. Favors, perhaps. Obviously your assets will be greatly improved once you come to Syrlan's aid; though she is not a monetarily wealthy country, other things within her borders do have value. Trade agreements could possibly be arranged." Corbin's hands remained still, if tense, in an interlocking pattern, fingers crossing fingers.

"I see no profit in trade, dear Prince." The mercenary leaned forwards. "We are not a country, we are three men. We have no merchants, no ports or caravans. We do not need trade." His voice settled into a low timbre, rumbling into the stale are.

"But you do need money," Corbin pointed out, allowing a small flash of emotion to spark in his words. "No man can live without money."

"You'd be surprised." Thayer nodded. "But yes, we will need monies at some point in time. But perhaps this is not one of those times?"

Corbin smiled, for the first time seeming to enjoy himself. "Syrlan can provide food, shelter and any material thing that you may want. She is not dependent on other nations for trade; Syrlan is self-sufficient." It was obvious that the Prince took pride in his homeland.

"I see." Thayer nodded once more. "Perhaps you may want to expound upon some of these 'material things' that you have." He grinned. "What can you offer us that we don't already have?"

"Horses, fresh and good; they are found in the Aspeth province and are quite the animals. You would not be in want of a good mount. Or, perhaps, you might need a variegated food supply; Syrlan would be more than happy to provide you with items that you would not be able to grow and care for on your own, provided that you helped her with her wars." Corbin raised his chin defiantly. "The finest blacksmiths on the Continent live and work within Syrlan. You would not be in want of a good blade."

"Horses, we have, as do we blades. The food offer is tempting, I must admit, but Wythin is closer and readily supplies us with those things we need. I see no reason to suddenly switch our allegiance to you and risk some form of retaliation from the Wyth. What benefit would that have for us?" Thayer settled into his chair. "Please, tell me, Prince Corbin."

Corbin of Syrlan proceeded to do just that, extolling the products that his beloved homeland created. Thayer was thoroughly impressed by the time the young man was done, both with the bargain on the table and by the young man's faith in his country. He smiled at the defiant prince before him, genially extending a hand. "I do believe we have a deal, Prince Corbin of Syrlan."

Corbin crossed his arms. "There is one more thing."

"And what might that be?" Thayer let his hand fall to his knee.

"The Princess who was here." Corbin swallowed nervously.

"What about her?" Thayer was suddenly wary. "I do not traffic in people; I am not a slave trader."

Corbin's resolve visibly hardened. "Exactly, Thayer." His sensuous lips curved into a sly smile. "You must not hold her prisoner, else you seem to hold a slave yourself."

"She is a slave to naught but her father's promises." Thayer considered his words, "And she is not even slave to that, merely a token of good faith, much as her sister is to the King of Lamar."

The prince frowned. "I demand that she must be released at once. Where are you holding her captive?"

"And what would you do with her once you had her?" The mercenary smoothed his face into an emotionless visage.

"I would return her to her proper place, with her country and Queen." Corbin raised his chin haughtily. "I would make sure that she was protected from all evils and free her from this prison."

Thayer almost chuckled at the bravado of the younger man. "And what then? Would you enter into negotiations to marry the young lady in question?" He allowed the faintest of smiles to deepen the corners of his mouth. "She would foreswear her country if she did, you know. She would not do it." He added, as an afterthought, "I don't believe she would do it."

"I think otherwise, mercenary." Corbin flailed desperately in a sea of possible answers. "She would do it! For the sake of her country and her people, she would!"

"So you would declare war on Wythin and fight on two fronts, then, when you are already stretched as it is?"

"No." Corbin murmured softly. "I would not." He paused to think. "I am sorry, Thayer of the Kalid-Na'in. I did not mean to speak so rashly." He bowed his head. "I would appreciate it if the release of the lady Princess was appended to our agreement."

"No." Thayer held out his hand once more as an offering of good faith. "If you leave Wythin's eldest princess out of our agreement, I pledge the support of the Kalid-Na'in to your country, Syrlan, in return for the goods and material items that you see fit to supply us with, as mentioned before." He shrugged. "You may come at a later date to discuss the fate of Wythin's Princess. She must be present if we are to negotiate about her."

Corbin let a look of pure relief slide across his expression. "Thayer, mercenary of the Kalid-Na'in, you are kind beyond measure." He bowed from the waist, then placed his hand in Thayer's. "We come to an accord."

"Indeed we do." Thayer nodded and dropped the prince's hand. "Give us a week's notice anytime you need us, and we will be at your beck and call."

Corbin smiled. "Excellent."

Lohengrin glared at his eighth cousin thirteen times removed. Caltrian Ashwar, though only distantly related, had never let Lohen forget the tie. "Lohengrin! It is so good to see you again!" The sycophantic smile was smeared across the younger knight's face.

"Caltrian." Lohen nodded solemnly. "I hope this is important."

"Family is always important, Lohengrin!" Caltrian smiled beatifically. "I haven't see you in so long! You really should come to Lamar more often, instead of staying holed away in that little keep you call a garrison." Caltrian had the particular gift of making every word that came out of his mouth insulting. "I miss my favorite cousin!"

"Of course you do." He nodded. "What do you want?"

"Well, I need to introduce you, of course! The court is just dying to see my long lost cousin, you understand. They all wonder what you're like! I've told them so many things and yet, they don't feel as if they know you at all." Caltrian's eyes were bright, avariciously looking at Lohen. "And I'm offering you a place to sleep. The Lamarans don't think that you sleeping with Mirian is exactly the most proper arrangement, you see, so it would be just so much easier if you would merely consent to live with me, my dearest cousin!"

A quick headshake cut Caltrian short. "I was charged with protecting the Princess and I cannot do that if I am separated by so many stone walls. The quarters near her residence will be satisfactory, thank you."

The young noble looked crestfallen. "But Lohen! Your supreme obligation is to your family!" He gestured inclusively, "Blood speaks louder than any vow."

"Caltrian, cousin, your offer is kind, but I must decline." Lohen shrugged. "Duty is paramount."

Caltrian almost pouted. "I see, Lohengrin. I was merely trying to spare you the rumors that will no doubt circulate about the court."

Lohen refrained from making any overt gesture of disbelief. If you were trying spare me anything, Caltrian, Lohen thought to himself, pigs would certainly sprout wings and fly. "Now that you have presented me with your kind offers, I take my leave of you." Lohen sketched a quick bow. "Till next time, cousin."

As the door shut behind him, blocking out Caltrian's muted glare and his flunkey's shock, Lohen's heart eased. With his cousin out of the way for the time being, the rest of his day would be so much easier. He only hoped that the man would stay away for the next week, but somehow he doubted that would happen.

With a slightly happier outlook on the day, Lohen went in search of Mirian. Without a Princess to protect, he was nothing more than a strange man in a foreign court. But, he knew, he had a purpose.

Thayer had entrusted him with this, and he couldn't fail his friend.

**Author's Note**: Hooray! Another chapter! It's little on the short side, but other than that, I think we're good. I'm happy with the reappearance of Corbin especially; I missed him. )

I hope you all liked this chapter too—if you would be so kind, I would appreciate any feedback that you have. Thanks in advance!


	18. Girls Will Be Girls

**18**.

**Warnings:** It gets a little, eensie-weensie bit risqué! Oh noes, cover your eyes!

"How am I ever supposed to fit you into this dress if you do not hold still?" The seamstress had been grousing continuously all morning, finding one thing after another that was not exactly as she wanted it. "You are not of the measurements given to me, my lady."

Mirian sighed. It wasn't her fault that the silly 'prentice who'd measured her had got the length of her back and her waist measurement flipped around. She certainly couldn't have stopped the girl's errors.

"I do believe we'll have to make this entire bodice over again. Do you know how long that will take?" The seamstress glared at Mirian. "Forever and a day! It will never be finished in time!"

Selena chose that moment to glide over to her sister, smiling angelically. "Oh, my dear Molly, you must do it for her! I couldn't bear it if my own sister weren't in my wedding. And no one can make this like you can." Selena sank to her knees so that she was on the same eye level as the older woman. "Please, Molly, for me?"

The seamstress frowned but nodded. "Just this once, my lady."

"Oh thank you ever so much!" Selena cooed happily as she bestowed a kiss on the aged and wrinkled hand. "How wonderful, Mirian!"

Mirian raised an eyebrow and smiled. Her sister had a charm that worked on people left and right. "Selena, you are such a delightful sister."

Molly the seamstress rose stiffly to her feet and almost looked pleasant. "Princess Selena, you do make an old woman feel lighter." Selena dimpled and shooed the woman out of the room along with the entourage of younger 'prentices.

"Can you believe it, Miri?" Selena twirled around the room as soon as the do was shut. "I'm getting married!"

Mirian laughed at her sister's antics. "Silly girl, of course I can! We've been dreaming of this day for years and years!" She pulled Selena onto the nearest couch. "Sit, silly goose, or you'll wear yourself out for tonight's ball!" Though she had been in Lamar for less than a week, Mirian had already been incorporated into the sweeping social circles that spanned the entirety of the palace. At present, Mirian and especially Selena were the center of the largest group. They were the topic of almost every conversation and everyone knew their names. Mirian had received dozens of suitors eager to ingratiate themselves with the pair of Princesses. She had spurned all of them, refusing to go anywhere without the company of her sister.

"What're you wearing?" Selena broke her sister's reverie with a sudden question. "I'm going to match you."

"Shouldn't you be matching Prince Alejandro?" Mirian giggled. She had only met the Crown Prince once, but she had found him a complete and utter gentleman, seemingly oblivious to the sartorial world that the court ladies operated in.

"But I want to match you! You are my sister after all. Andro is just…" She trailed off.

"Your fiancée?" Mirian filled in for her. "Anyway, I was contemplating the green satin."

"Really?" Selena's face fell. "But I have nothing to match that!" She pouted, a petulant look creasing her brow. "What about something in purple?"

"I've not a dress in purple though. Perhaps you shall wear purple and I shall wear a grey?"

"But grey is so drab!" Selena protested.

"It's simple, not drab." Mirian smiled. "Plus, I shan't outshine the bride-to-be if I wear grey."

Selena blushed faintly at this and looked down. "Mirian, stop saying that, would you?"

Chuckling, she asked, "But why, Selena-dearest?"

"Because." Selena frowned. "Just because."

"If you insist." Mirian was about to change the subject to something happier and lighter when the bell outside the door tinkled gaily. "I wonder who that could be?" As she rose to answer the door, she heard Selena hiccup softly. "Shall I let them in?" She murmured softly.

Selena nodded, saying nothing.

Mirian opened the door and smiled happily as it swung open. "Prince Alejandro!" She curtseyed sweetly. "How delightful to have you here!" She heard Selena gasp quietly and Mirian tried to capture the Prince's attention. "So, Alejandro, it's so nice to see you again."

He nodded distractedly. "Yes, indeed, Marian."

"Mirian," she corrected gently.

"Mirian, my apologies." Alejandro suddenly focused on her. "You're not married, are you?"

She frowned. "No, I'm not." It was still a sore point, despite the months that had passed since Selena was engaged. "Why do you ask?"

"You're not engaged, either?" He looked strangely at her, a decidedly awkward expression on his face.

"No, your majesty." Mirian smiled hesitantly. "Would you like to see Selena now?"

"Many men would be willing to help you solve that little problem of yours, you know." Alejandro shifted restlessly, his eyes darting over her face.

She studiously ignored his gaze, and replied, "Your fiancée is waiting for you."

Suddenly, the Crown Prince looked exceptionally contrite. "I offer my apologies, Mirian, if I have offended you. I did not mean to cause discomfort." He bowed from the waist and walked by her. "If I may be alone with her?"

Mirian frowned and brought her lips closer to his ear. "I'm not entirely certain that would be the best idea, Alejandro." She whispered the words, hoping that Selena could not hear.

"I think it would be best, actually." The Lamaran Prince smiled detachedly and nodded to her. "Good day, Mirian."

Mirian stared at the door as it closed in her face. "Well, that was rather rude," she muttered peevishly. As she walked away, searching for Michel or someone else to pass the time with, she heard silence emanating from behind the closed door.

Selena felt a smile curve across her lips as Alejandro walked into the room. It was involuntary and habitual, a greeting bread into her by her years in the court. "Good afternoon, Milord."

"Please, call me Andro." The lanky prince paced around the small room.

"If you wish." She bowed her head. "Andro."

Without warning, he folded himself at her feet, looking up at her with soulful eyes. "What is the matter? We are to be married on the morrow and you have become more distant with every day you've been here."

She bit her lip and shook her head, refusing to say anything.

"Selena," He whispered her name softly, gently.

Her eyes met his of their own volition. "Don't…" She protested softly, looking down again.

"If, Selena, we are to be married tomorrow, you must at least be able to look at me, yes?" Andro's fingers slipped under her chin, forcing it upwards. "Look at me," he demanded. "Look. That's all."

She refused him, closing her eyes tightly. She wasn't sure if she did it just to spite him or because she was trying to dam the tears that were building up behind her eyes. The fingers on the delicate skin of her neck were hot and she could feel them pulsing with life. Swallowing delicately, she tried to pull herself away, but he wouldn't let her.

Without a word, he leaned forward and she could feel him, the warm breath on her face, the subtly masculine smell of him. "Princess." His voice was soft but firm. "Tell me what thoughts are in that beautiful head of yours."

The breath flooded in through her lungs, raggedly clawing its way into the world. "I am…I…I am…" Selena broke off, unsure of how to phrase her thoughts. She felt a single tear streak down her cheek. Still, her eyes remained closed as she refused to watch his expression. She didn't want to see her own emotions reflected on his face.

The fingertips under her chin slowly slipped around to cradle the back of her head, pressing tenderly into her hair. "Selena," he whispered into her lips, pressing close to her. "All will be well." She could feel his words moving against her lips, his lips brushing against hers. Neither of them said anything more for a time, letting the silence between them grow into a semblance of understanding.

Lohengrin found his charge lounging by one of the many ponds that the Lamaran palace sported. She stared into the water with intense, melancholic focus, oblivious to her surroundings. He was reluctant to disturb her, but he had been looking for her for the past several hours and didn't want to waste his chances to talk to her now. "Mirian?"

She turned and looked at him, the blue of the water caught fast in the grey of her eyes. "Yes, Lohengrin?"

He lowered himself to the ground beside her. "I have been looking over our travel plans and it seems that, in order to return on schedule, we must leave approximately three days following tomorrow's wedding."

Lohen watched as her face fell, feeling like a terrible person. "But Lohen!" She protested futilely, longing to stay with her family for just a few extra days. "Do you understand what this means to me? This is a big event! My sister is getting married to a man she barely knows and I'm to leave her to him without a second thought? She might need me, Lohen! Please, just a few extra days. Please, I beg of you."

He wasn't sure if he could refuse her; as she clutched his hand tightly in hers, he imagined he could feel her pain. "Oh, Mirian, don't do this to me." He sighed. "I made a promise to Thayer; I can't break that easily."

"I know." It was her turn to sigh. "But I can hope."

"I shall see, Mirian. Perhaps, if we ride straight through one night…but that would be hard on you." He shook his head. "I can't let you do that."

"But I would!" The gleam of hope sparkled in her eyes and she almost looked happy. "Oh, if only I could stay an extra day- and extra afternoon, even!" A whisper of a smile brushed her lips. "It would mean the world."

Lohen knew he was heading straight for the jaws of a sentimental trap and he knew he should feel guilty, but he just couldn't bring himself to say no to the girl. "We shall see." He had never been very good at dissembling but he did the best he could. It was neither yea nor nay, but it would suffice. It would have to. "I shall see how I might rework out travel route to accommodate this."

Without warning, Mirian kissed the hand that she had been holding. "Lohengrin, I am in your debt." Her smile was sweet and he blushed. "You are truly wonderful."

He smiled in return and gently pulled his hand away. "We shall see, Mirian, remember that." As he stood to leave, her poorly stifled laugh caught his attention. "What, Princess, amuses you so?"

"You're really just a dear man, you know that? You've got a heart bigger than your brain, I think." She giggled again, her eyes fairly dancing with laughter.

He chuckled, "You, my dear Princess, are far too silly for your own good." Lohen left her, still laughing, in a merry mood to return to his quarters.

As she slipped on her gown for the evening's affair, Petra watched herself in the mirror, hoping that the latest Lamaran fashions suited her well. She smoothed the billowing gown around her hips, noting each imperfection in her figure. She sighed gently, hoping that Michel wouldn't desert her at the ball. Selena had assured her that Michel would never do such a thing and that he was madly in love with her, but Petra wasn't sure. Ever since Mirian had arrived, she fancied that she saw him with a different girl every day. She imagined that they were all exotic Lamaran women, full of passion and adoration for him and that he responded in kind, casually forgetting her affections and…

No. She stopped that train of thought with a final pat at her hair. It was as good as it was going to get, she decided, sighing. Hopefully it would be good enough.

She had picked a dress that would match Michel's eyes perfectly; a sky blue, bluer than the ocean and bluer than her own feelings. Eyeing herself once more in the mirror, she left her borrowed room and went to face the world of Lamaran high society.

Selena felt the cool touch of the silver around her neck and shivered. The necklace lay beautifully over her pale skin, shimmering softly with every breath she took. "Mirian, how do I look?"

Mirian looked up from slipping on a silver satin shoe. "Lovely, dear-heart, absolutely stunning." She smiled. "You'll be the belle of the ball!"

Selena smiled faintly and then turned back to the mirror. She was not longer certain that lavender was the best color choice, but she was wearing it whether it was or not.

Mirian watched her sister frowning at her reflection and laughed quietly. "Careful, Lena, your face might get stuck that way." Selena merely crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out in response. "Even better!" Mirian clapped. "Look that way the entire night!"

Selena smiled at her older sister. "You look beautiful, Miri."

"Of course I do!" Mirian grinned, fingering the grey silk lovingly. It really was beautiful; not only did it complement her eyes perfectly, but it also matched Selena's gown exceedingly well. Where Selena's dress was augmented by a grey sash, Mirian's was decorated with flowing strands of pale purple ribbons that fluttered when she walked. "Help me?" She held out a silver pendant that was the exact opposite of Selena's. "I don't think I can get it myself."

Selena's fingers were deft as she latched the fine silver around her sister's neck. "There. All set!" She stepped back to admire the silver against her sister's skin. "I like it, I think."

Mirian's lips curved slightly. "You should. You picked it out."

"True enough." Selena grinned nervously. "Should we wait until Alejandro gets here or not?" A disapproving look from Mirian said more than words. "I thought so."

"Indeed. It's good etiquette." Mirian shook her head. "I hope he gets here soon, though."

"I do too!" Selena began to pace. "I'm getting bored."

"And nervous," Mirian added. "I can tell you are," she insisted when Selena shook her head. "Really."

Finally, the bell tinkled outside to signal a visitor. "Mirian?" Lohen called from the hallway. "May I enter?"

Mirian stood and stretched. "Of course, Lohengrin. Is Prince Alejandro waiting with you?"

"No, milady," Lohen said as he stepped into the antechamber where the two sisters waited. "I did not see him."

Selena scrunched her face up and made an odd noise begat by frustration. "He better get here soon!"

Lohen bowed to Selena. "Princess, you look beautiful."

She dimpled happily. "Thank you, Sir Knight." Her smile widened. "You look rather dashing yourself, Lohengrin."

Lohen thanked her politely and turned to Mirian. "You look lovely as well," he told her, his voice soft. "If only Thayer could see you now."

Her expression darkened but for a moment. "Don't mention him, please." Mirian's smile was gone. "This is a happy night."

"As you wish, Princess." Lohen nodded deferentially.

Selena looked from Mirian to Lohen and back again. "What's between you two?"

"Never mind." Mirian shook her head. "Do I hear Alejandro coming?" It was a desperate gambit to leave the current topic, but it worked. Just as she finished speaking, the bell outside rang.

"That's him!" Selena suddenly flushed all over, a red blush spreading from her cheeks and disappearing beneath the neck of her dress.

As Alejandro entered the room, filling the door with his presence, Mirian heard Selena's breath catch. She cast a quick glace behind her to see a mix of terror and exhilaration swirl across her sister's face.

"Princess Selena." Alejandro bowed formally and caught Selena's hand in his. "Shall we?" His lips brushed the back of her hand, and Mirian watched as Selena's eyes widened and her blush intensify.

"We shall," Selena managed to murmur. Alejandro took her arm and they swept off together, every inch a royal couple.

Lohen eyed Mirian. "Shall we, milady?"

"I think so." She arched her brow. "They make quite the pair, don't they?"

His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Indeed they do." As they walked out together, Mirian's arm in his, Lohen smiled. "This shall be a wondrous night, I think."

**Author's Note**: Hey look! A Chapter! Isn't that cool? I wasn't sure I'd get this done this weekend, but I did! I got caught up in all this art stuff…I embroidered most of Saturday away, I know that much. And it's not as bad as it's made out to be…I think it's rather fun, actually. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter (it's extra long!) and please, tell me what you thought of it! I thrive on your feedback, much like plants thrive on good fertilizer. (I've been reading a lot about the agriculture of 17th century Europe…so please excuse the bad analogy. )

Anyway, reviewing is what all the cool kids are doing, don't say no, just do it! Thanks in advance.

Best wishes for 2007! I will try and keep my profile on here updated, so check that if you want to know what's going on. That's all for now!

Lots of love to everyone!


	19. Fiacha the Fourth

**Refresher…** You remember Fiacha, don't you? She's the mean one. All her chapters are entitled Fiacha. She creates more questions than answers…

**19.**-Fiacha

It was the dead of night when I stole into the room, hidden by the cover of darkness. This was an unfamiliar castle in an unfamiliar land; in all of his travels, Thayer had rarely come to Lamar. I slipped in between the sheets of glass, relishing them as one might relish silk sheets. Shivering in delight, I waited.

The music from below waned with the night, disappearing with the darkness. It was well into the next day before a tired young woman stumbled to bed, stopping only briefly in front of the mirror to take off her jewels.

"Sweet sister," I whispered, loving the sibilants on my tongue. They were so delightfully sinister and so deliciously me. The girl's head jerked around. "Sweet, dearest, most lovely girl, do not fear me." The mirror was not the most convenient place to speak from, but it would have to do.

"Who's there?" Her eyes, though tired, were wide with panic. "Michel?"

"Silly goose, look at your reflection." I leaned forward, pressing my nose to the glass, watching her come closer. "Do you see me?"

She recoiled in shock. "What are you?"

My lips curled into a predatory grin and I could feel the saliva begin to flow as I longed to touch this girl. "I am you," I murmured in a sudden fit of creative inspiration. "Your inner self."

Her delicate eyebrows curled together, like hounds in front of the fire. "My inner self? That sounds rather ridiculous."

"Petra," I whispered, understanding her name at last. "Petra, my darling dear, you must forgive my appearance." I knew that I looked nothing like this waif of a girl; I was a beautiful, vibrant woman, so unlike this pale slip of a thing. "You must, however, believe me when I say I am you."

She frowned, her chapped lips pursing. "Mirrors don't talk." She shook her head. "I must be hallucination. Or dreaming." A thin hand rubbed her forehead. "It really has been a long night."

"Petra," I pressed a palm to the glass. "Wait just a moment." She turned. "Touch my hand, and you will see that I am real."

"Why?" Then she snorted. "Why, indeed? I'm talking to my reflection."

"Just…touch it, Petra. Please?" I hated to beg, but sometimes it was necessary. She reached out, the finely boned fingers stretching closer and closer to the glass. "Just a little further," I urged, pressing my palm harder, as if it would help. Her fingertips grazed the glass, and I felt the warmth of her skin, of her blood and life. "Yes, that's it!" Her palm pressed flat against mine, and without hesitating, I reached through the glass, locking my fingers in hers. The rest of me followed quickly as I used her to pull myself through the mirror, forging a pathway where none had been before.

Petra whimpered as I clawed my way up her arm, leaving white fingerprints in my wake. "Stop, stop this, whatever you are!" She trembled violently, and I sneered at her weakness.

"Petra," I crooned in her ear, standing on the floor next to her. "Petra darling." The floor was cold on my bare feet; indeed, the air of the room itself was cold on my naked body. "You are such a good girl."

She looked up at me her eyes full of fear. "What are you doing?"

I leaned closer. "Nothing." With subtle pressure here and there, I turned her around so that I pressed into her back. "Petra," I whispered once more, accustoming myself to the sound of the name. "I am going to, let's see…borrow your life for a bit." My fingers danced up her neck, tickling the tender skin. "That's all."

I felt a tear hit my finger the moment before I slipped into her, just as I had the mirror. I made a path where none had been before, creating a place just for me within her.

"Petra," I said with Petra's tongue. "My turn." I looked in the mirror and Petra looked back at me, a true reflection this time. I touched my cheek and Petra did the same.

We were one and the same, now, and I smiled lovingly. Greedily, I began to sift through her memories. "This shall be much fun."

Deep within me, Petra disagreed.

**Author's Note:** Oh, it was a short chapter, I know! I'm sorry. Next chapter will come when it's written…:)

I hope you don't mind the shortness, but that's all I have for now.

Happy January!


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